


Free to a Good Home

by SeeWell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #IDoThisInsteadOfSleeping, #SometimesIDoThisInsteadOfWorking, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Castiel, Angels in Heat, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Boys In Love, Bunker, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaker Dean, Castiel Whump, Castiel in Heat, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is In Over His Head, Dean thinks Cas is dead, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Hurt Castiel, F/M, Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Memory Loss, Men of Letters Bunker, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Dean Winchester, Pining Dean, Porn With Plot, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Ships It, Sick Castiel, Sickfic, Smut, Spells & Enchantments, Submission, Suicidal Castiel, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:33:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeWell/pseuds/SeeWell
Summary: Dean bit down on the inside of his cheek. He almost lost Sam last night. He’d almost lost Sam 1000 times before. He set a hand on his sleeping brother’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Sammy,” he muttered. “Mom and Dad would be proud, too.” Dean turned his eyes back to the road and almost instantly hit the breaks. Sam jerked against his seatbelt and woke up with his fist clenched. Dean threw the car in park and scrambled out. Not ten feet in front of them was Cas. Two enormous black wings sprouted from his back, glimmering green and purple hues in the bright sunlight. The angel was standing with his hands in his pockets on this deserted stretch of Kansas highway as though being an angel on a deserted Kansas highway was the most normal thing in the world. Dean ran up to him and noticed a sign hanging around his friend’s neck. White poster-board hung from twine and settled across Castiel’s chest. FREE TO A GOOD HOME...This fic takes place at some undefined point in the Supernatural universe. I'm going to try not to include anything too season specific.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this pic that has no right to be as cute as it is...https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/a8/53/d1/a853d14b4feb105e2adebb673c1800e6.png

 

Sam was sleeping soundly in the passenger’s seat of the Impala. Dean’s head was throbbing. It had taken all night to hunt down, hack up and destroy the rugaru. It blindsided Dean at the last minute was able to take out a good chunk of Sam’s arm before either brother could stop it. 

Dean grinned at his little brother who was snoring like a monster with his face mashed against the window. The rugaru had its mouth full of forearm and Sam had come down on him hard with the dagger in his free hand. 

The monster staggered back, uninjured but stunned. Sam had traded his dagger for his lighter while Dean doused the bloody, snarling thing in lighter fluid. While the monster burned, Dean did his best to wrap Sam’s arm. The rugaru took a big bite of muscle and Dean could see bone as he tried to stop the bleeding. Sam was pale and sweaty, but his eyes were on the beast and he didn’t so much as flinch while Dean cleaned him up. 

In the moment, all Dean could do was panic and pray to Cas. They needed the angel asap, or Sam was going to bleed to death. Sammy stayed conscious through the whole thing. Dean took him to the nearest hospital and returned to the scene of the crime alone to dispose of the evidence. He’d given Sam a good ten hours to recuperate before waking him and sneaking him out of the hospital. They were only five hours away from the bunker. Since Cas wasn’t responding, Dean decided to try his luck with whatever magic nonsense they could find at home. 

Sam snorted loudly and huddled closer to the door, favoring his injured arm. In the silence of the Impala, away from the danger, adrenalin and panic, Dean allowed himself to reflect on the fight. Sammy was a badass—no question. He’d managed to take out a rugaru while it was chowing down on him. Dean was proud. His gigantic baby brother was a certified killing machine, though no one would know it right now. Doped up on morphine and god-knows what else, Sam was rosy-cheeked and drooling against the window. 

Dean bit down on the inside of his cheek. He almost lost Sam last night. He’d almost lost Sam 1000 times before. He set a hand on his brother’s shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you, Sammy,” he muttered. “Mom and Dad would be proud, too.” Dean turned his eyes back to the road and almost instantly hit the breaks. Sam jerked against his seatbelt and woke up with his fist clenched. Dean threw the car in park and scrambled out. 

Not ten feet in front of them was Cas. Two enormous black wings sprouted from his back, glimmering green and purple hues in the bright sunlight. The angel was standing with his hands in his pockets on this deserted stretch of Kansas highway as though being an angel on a deserted Kansas highway was the most normal thing in the world. 

Dean ran up to him and noticed a sign hanging around his friend’s neck. White poster-board hung from twine and settled across Castiel’s chest. 

FREE TO A GOOD HOME 

“Cas, what the hell?” asked Dean. 

Cas cocked his head to one side, then glanced behind him. He turned back to Dean with his eyebrows creased. “Me?” 

“Yeah you,” snapped Dean. “For Christ’s sake, your wings are out. Has anyone come by? Fuck, man—what if another hunter saw you. What if a demon saw you?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Cas. 

“Just get in the car,” said Dean. He pulled the sign from Cas’ neck and started pushing him back to the Impala. Sam was half standing, half leaning against the car. 

“Free to a good home,” muttered Dean. “I’ve been calling you, worrying my ass off about you and Sam—who could use a dose of angel mojo, by the way—and here you are dicking around on I-70.” 

Cas reached forward and took Dean’s hand. Dean shook himself free. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Cas squinted at him. “I don’t know.”

Dean sighed. 

 _Fucking fantastic._  

“What’s going on?” called Sam. 

“Cas is fucked up,” answered Dean. “Get back in the car.” Begrudgingly, he took Cas’ hand and dragged him back to the Impala. “It’s going to be a tight fit with your wings,” said Dean. He pulled the angel past Sam and opened the back door. 

Sam stepped away from the car. “If you can kinda fold them back and wrap them around, they might fit,” he said. 

“We’ll figure it out, Sammy,” said Dean. “Just get back in the car.” 

“I can help,” said Sam. 

“No you can’t. You’re high as a kite with a hole the size of a potato in your right arm. Sit down. We’ll figure it out.” 

Sam huffed, but slumped back into his seat. 

Dean realized he was still holding Cas’ hand. He cleared his throat and released him. “Get in,” said Dean. 

Cas tilted his head to the side again. “Are you taking me to a good home?” 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. 

Cas set his hand on top of the car. “Is this home?” he asked. “It is small.” 

“No, that is car,” said Dean. “Car will take us to home. Just get in.”

Cas nodded and climbed inside the Impala with surprising ease. He folded his wings and partially wrapped them around his shoulders as Sam suggested. He looked cramped, but he didn’t complain. 

Dean got back behind the wheel and slammed the door. Team freewill had seen better days, but at least they were all together. He eased back onto the road and continued the drive back to the bunker. 

Sam was partially turned around in his seat. “I’ve never seen your wings before,” he said. “They’re beautiful.” 

“Take it easy, Romeo,” said Dean. “Turn around before you make yourself sick.” 

Sam ignored him. “Why are your wings visible?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Cas. “You’ve seen me without them?” 

“Yeah,” answered Sam, he paused to glance at Dean. “You don’t remember us, do you?” 

“No,” answered Cas. 

“Fucking fantastic,” muttered Dean. 

“You made him get in the car with strangers,” snapped Sam.

“I didn’t make him do anything,” said Dean. 

“He said we were going to a good home,” said Cas. 

Dean shoved the sign toward Sam. “This was hanging around his neck.” 

Sam picked up the sign, glaring as he read it. “Cas, who gave you this?” 

When Cas didn’t answer, Dean glanced at the rear view mirror. “I’m guessing he doesn’t remember he’s ‘Cas’ either,” said Dean.

Sam looked up and turned back to the angel. “Your name is Castiel. We call you Cas for short.”

“All right,” answered Cas.

“I’m Sam and that’s Dean. We’re your friends.” 

“Thank you,” said Cas. 

“Are you thanking us for being your friends?” 

“Yes.” 

Sam sighed. 

“We’ll figure it out when we get home,” said Dean. “It’s probably a spell.” He glanced sideways at Sam. “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep since we left the hospital.”

“Hospitals heal the sick,” said Cas.

“They sure do,” said Dean. “Way to contribute.” 

“I can also heal the sick.” 

Once again, Dean almost slammed on the breaks. “You remember how to heal?” he asked. 

“Dude, watch the road,” said Sam.

“Heal Sam. He’s hurt.”

Dean heard feathers rustle as Cas leaned forward and placed two fingers to Sam’s forehead. They emitted a familiar blue glow and Sam let out a deep breath. 

“Did it work?” asked Dean. 

Sam poked cautiously at his bandages. “I think so,” he said. “My arm feels better and the world isn’t spinning anymore. I’d call that a win.” 

“Your health has been fully restored,” said Cas. 

“Holy shit,” muttered Dean. He relaxed against his seat. “First good news we’ve had in a while.” 

_One down, one to go._

“Thank you” said Sam. He punched Dean in the arm and grinned. “Good as new.” 

“Are you hurt, Cas?” asked Dean. 

“I do not think so.” 

“Can you heal Dean?” asked Sam. 

“He can heal me later, I’m driv—Dammit, Cas!” 

The angel leaned forward and sent a surge of grace through Dean. The Impala swerved when Dean flinched. He looked at the angel in the mirror. 

Cas retreated back to his seat, hands in his lap, head bowed and wings pulled tight around his shoulders. 

“You hurt his feelings,” said Sam. 

Dean groaned.

“Dean appreciates that you healed him,” said Sam, turning back to Cas. “He’s not used to people being nice to him, so he doesn’t always know how to behave. He should have thanked you instead of yelling at you.” 

“For the love of God,” muttered Dean. 

“That’s sad,” said Cas. “Why aren’t people nice to him?” 

“Dean’s had a hard life,” answered Sam. 

“And you’re making my life harder,” snapped Dean. “Cas, how’d you end up with that sign around your neck?” 

“A man put it there.” 

“What man?” asked Dean. “What’d he look like?” 

“He was shorter than me with dark hair.” 

“Was he wearing a suit?”

“I don’t remember.” 

“Did he have an accent—did he talk funny?” 

“I’m not sure,” answered Cas. 

“Do you remember anything else about him? Anything that could help us find him?” 

“No,” answered Cas. “My apologies.” 

“It’s ok,” said Sam, quickly. “What do you remember about your life?” 

“I remember a man telling me to wait beside the road with that sign. After he left, I found a small bird in the dirt. It had a broken wing. I wanted to heal it and when I touched it, the wing healed. I watched it fly away. I stood quietly for a while, then you and Dean arrived.”

“Do you know you’re an angel?” asked Sam. 

“That does not sound familiar,” answered Cas. 

“It’s why you have powers,” said Sam. “Dean and I can’t heal stuff or fly like you can.” 

“Can you disappear like the man could?” 

“Oh my god,” muttered Dean. “We’re going to have to piece this together one random answer at a time.” 

Sam swatted at him, but ignored the comment. “No, we can’t. You’ve got special powers because you’re an angel.” 

“Angels are good,” said Cas, “but I do not feel good. I feel like I am bad.” 

“You’ve been through a lot of bad stuff,” said Sam, softening his voice. “You’ve had to make some tough choices—we all have. But you are not bad and you are definitely an angel.”

Cas sighed.

Dean focused on the road. He shoved the nagging little urge to speak to the back of his mind. They never had time for comfort. They were always between monsters. If someone went down, the others had just enough time to pull them back up before returning to the fight. Every soul in that car was haunted. Everyone one of them was damaged, bent and running on fumes. 

Sammy didn’t want this life. He was exhausted, disenchanted and lonely. Cas was still running from a decade’s worth of demons. Sometime ago Cas was afraid he’d kill himself. Dean welcomed that confession with no more than a slap on the back and a “hang in there champ.” 

Sam and Cas were the only two people in the world who Dean loved, and they were suffering—had been for years. He still didn’t know how to fix them. Dean shook his head and closed off that part of his mind. He’d take this one step at a time. Step one was get back home.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean cooked while Sam led Cas around the bunker trying to jog his memory. The Winchester brothers were exhausted but hunger and curiosity kept them awake. 

Cas sat quietly while they ate, his bright blue eyes following Dean’s every move. After a few moments, he reached across the table and stole a french-fry from Dean’s plate. He bit into it and frowned. 

“This is not good,” he said, returning the remainder of the fry to Dean. 

“I don’t want your reject fry,” said Dean. 

“I don’t want it either,” said Cas. 

Dean rolled his eyes and knocked the fry onto the table. 

“Why are you eating something that tastes like that?” asked Cas. 

“It only tastes bad to you,” answered Sam. “Angels don’t need to eat. I guess food is an acquired taste for you guys.” 

Castiel was still glaring at the food. “I hope I do not forget that I do not like that.” 

“You used to like some foods,” said Dean. “I’ll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tomorrow.” He finished his last bite of food and stretched. “I’m beat. I’m going to sleep and not wake up until I absolutely have to.” 

Sam yawned. “Good call,” he said. “We’ll get Cas’ memory back in the morning.” 

They cleaned up the kitchen and headed to their respective bedrooms. Dean didn’t realize Cas was following him until he stopped in front of his room and the angel bumped into his back. 

“What now,” groaned Dean. 

“You and Sam went in different directions,” answered Cas. “I decided to follow you.” 

“Angels don’t sleep,” said Dean. 

Cas took a step back. “Oh,” he said. “I suppose that explains why I’m not tired.” He frowned and titled his head. “I could attempt to use my powers again to see if I could alleviate your tiredness, then you would not need to sleep either.” 

Dean caught Cas’ hand before it got to his forehead. “I _like_ to sleep,” said Dean. 

“Oh,” said Cas. “I suppose it is another ‘acquired taste.’” 

“Something like that,” said Dean. He realized, yet again, that he was still holding Cas’ hand. He let it drop quickly. They stood in awkward silence for a moment. “You gonna be ok staying up by yourself?” asked Dean. 

“Yes,” answered Cas. “I’ll watch over you.” 

“No,” said Dean. “That’s not gonna happen.” 

“Then I will watch over Sam.” 

“No, Cas that’s creepy.” 

Cas frowned and looked at his feet. “Then I will sit quietly,” he said. “May I sit at the table?”

Dean studied his friend for a moment. He knew he was going to give in, but his ego insisted on making a show of the struggle first. Cas looked helpless. His wings drooped and his hands fidgeted with his coat while he waited for Dean to answer. He owed Cas everything. If the angel wanted one night of watching Dean sleep so he could feel like he was doing something useful, then Dean was damn sure going to let him have it. 

He glanced down the hall to make sure Sam wasn’t around, then stepped back and opened the door to his room. “You can watch over me,” he muttered. 

Cas’ wings rose slightly. “I do not want to be creepy,” he said.

“You’re not creepy. I was being a jerk. You can come in, just be quiet and don’t tell Sam.” 

Castiel nodded, his face brightening. He hurried past Dean and into the room.

“I’ll be right back,” said Dean, grabbing sleep clothes from the edge of the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

 _Let the shit show begin._  

Dean hurried through his nighttime routine, cursing as his toothpaste missed the brush and hit the sink. His hands were shaking.

 _Get it together Winchester._  

He gripped both sides of the sink and glared at himself in the mirror. It didn’t help.  

 _Cas is in your bedroom. That’s not weird. He’s just there to watch you sleep. He probably does that all the time and you don’t know it._  

Dean immediately countered that thought with ways this could go horribly wrong. He struggled through brushing his teeth, splashed cold water on his face and returned to his bedroom. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt but still felt very exposed. 

 _Cas is in your bedroom._  

Dean shook his head. Obsessing over Cas’ close physical proximity was not a luxury he’d ever had time to examine. He’d known this was a problem the first time Cas stood too close. He’d finally understood and accepted the implications of said problem when Cas came back from purgatory. Dean was occasionally, secretly, painfully gay for Cas. 

He’d been gay for guys before—or bi, or whatever. The solution was just to stop going anywhere near that guy and the feelings would go away. That was not a solution for Cas. The best he could do was keep Cas at arms length and hope for the best. Now Dean about to have a fucking slumber party with him. 

When Dean reached his room, he was no more composed than he’d been in the bathroom. Cas however, looked perfectly comfortable. He stood in the middle of the room facing the door with his arms folded over his chest; a perfect sentry. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey, Cas,” he muttered. 

“This is the best spot to stand,” said Cas. “If I face the bed to watch you, I can still see the door from my peripheral.” 

“Great,” said Dean. He walked around the room, putting his bed between him and Cas.

“You need another angel,” said Cas. 

“Why?” 

“For Sam,” he answered. “I can move quickly enough between your rooms but it would be more efficient to have another angel to watch over Sam.” 

Dean bit his lip. That made it less weird, right? Cas wasn’t just in Dean’s room. He was watching Sam too. That made Cas’ vigil significantly more platonic. The hunter crawled into bed and settled on the side farthest from Cas.

“We’re not friends with any other angels,” said Dean. 

“Perhaps I could attempt to contact som—” 

“No,” said Dean quickly. “Don’t contact anyone. You—uh—you’re in danger. It would be bad for someone other than us to know where you are and what you’re doing.” Cas was on shaky ground with the angels. If they knew he was vulnerable, they’d most likely take advantage and kill him. 

“Are you also in danger?” asked Cas. 

“Sometimes,” answered Dean. He pulled his comforter up under his chin. It was too warm to sleep with the covers arranged like that, but it made him feel less like he was on display. Cas watched him. 

Dean rolled over to face the wall away from Cas. “Good night, Cas. See you in the morning.” 

“Good night, Dean.” 

Try as he might, sleep never came for him. Every half-hour or so, he’d hear the whisper-soft rustle of feathers as Cas left to check on Sam. The angel was never gone for more than a minute. Hours later, Dean was exhausted beyond the point of sleep. Cas finally spoke. 

“Perhaps the two of you should share a room,” he said. “That feels right. Something about this sleeping arrangement is odd.”

Dean rolled over to face his guardian. “We share a room when we’re on the road.” 

Cas looked down at him, eyebrows creased. “Why are you still awake?” 

“You woke me up.” 

Cas sighed. “I am trying to remember the correct way to behave. Lying to me does not help that process.”

Dean rolled onto his back and crossed his arms. 

“You’re breathing does not match Sam’s. His heart rate and breath slowed and stabilized about thirty minutes into his rest. Your heart rate has increased and you continue to exhale loudly as though you are agitated.” 

“Congratulations, Sherlock,” muttered Dean. “You caught me.” 

“I also saw you staring at the wall an hour ago.”

“My back was to you,” said Dean. “How did you see—” He raised an eyebrow. “You figured you can turn invisible.” 

“Yes. As luck would have it, I am able to do more than heal the sick.” 

Dean groaned and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. 

“It’s possible I possess the power to make you sleep,” said Cas. 

“You do,” grumbled Dean. “But don’t use it.” 

“Then perhaps I could cure your exhaustion.” 

“Don’t do that either.” 

“But you are suffering needlessly.” 

Dean shoved the covers away and pushed himself up. “I’m not suffering. I’ll make some coffee. If we’re both awake we might as well get some work done.” 

“Coffee?” asked Cas. 

“It’s a magical elixir. I’ll show you.” Dean grabbed his bathrobe and headed for the door. As soon as he’d wrapped the robe around himself, Cas took his hand. “We don’t need to hold hands every time we start moving.” 

Cas frowned at where their fingers intertwined. “But I like holding hands.” 

Dean licked his lips. Admittedly, Cas being naively forward made it easier for Dean to just play along. 

_But if he remembered all the shit you’ve put him through, he wouldn’t want to hold your hand, you sick bastard._

Dean shook his hand free. “No hand-holding,” he said. “Men don’t do that.”

Cas pulled his hand back and quickly shoved it into the pocket of his coat. “Apologies,” he murmured. 

Dean resisted the urge to fix it. Cas was going to remember Dean as he truly was eventually. As the angel said earlier, lying wasn’t going to help the process. 

Cas followed him quietly into the kitchen. Neither spoke while Dean made coffee. Neither spoke as they retreated to the library. Neither spoke while Dean searched for memory spells and counter-curses. It took Sam meandering through the bunker at the ass-crack of dawn to break the silence.

“What are you guys doing up so early?” he asked. Sam was in shorts and a t-shirt, most likely preparing to for a run. 

“Research,” answered Dean. He didn’t need to look up from his book to know Sam had rolled his eyes. 

“Did he sleep?” asked Sam. 

“No,” answered Cas. 

“You ok?” asked Sam. 

Dean looked up, prepared to snark back, but Sam wasn’t talking to him. He was looking at Cas. His wings drooped and curled forward around his body. 

“Admittedly, I am not feeling my best,” answered Cas. 

Dean’s focus snapped to the angel, prepared for round two of whatever magic nonsense was affecting him. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he asked. 

Cas squinted at him. “For some reason I prefer speaking to Sam right now.” 

“Why?” demanded Dean. 

“Speaking to you makes me feel worse.” 

Sam snorted. “Dean tends to have that effect on people.” 

“Fine,” said Dean, “then tell Sam what’s wrong.” 

“You don’t have to say it in front of Dean,” offered Sam, “if that’s what’s bothering you.”

Cas huffed. “Dean’s presence makes no difference.” 

“Then spit it out,” said Dean. 

Sam kicked him. 

“When I tried to hold Dean’s hand earlier, he seemed angry,” said Cas. “He pulled away from me and now I feel—I’m not sure how I feel. But it isn’t pleasant.” 

Dean’s heart seized in his chest as he waited for the inevitable eruption of taunts. 

“You feel rejected,” said Sam. “Dean hurt your feelings again.” 

Cas titled his head to the side. 

“Dean made you feel bad when he took his hand away, right? He made you feel—” 

“Foolish,” finished Cas. 

Dean groaned. “You two have fun talking about how mean I am. I’m going somewhere I can focus.” 

Sam shoved Dean back into his chair before he could leave. “Or you could nut up and apologize for being a jerk to your best friend.” 

“I am his best friend?” asked Cas. 

“Yeah,” answered Sam. “He only cares about two people in the whole damn world; me and you. He needs to remember that.” He straightened up to his full height and glared down at his older brother. 

“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Dean. 

“Perhaps he would have more friends if he were to improve his disposition,” said Cas. 

“My disposition is just fine,” snapped Dean. 

“You are mean and ill-tempered,” shot Cas. 

“You tried to hold my hand like a creep.” 

“Dude,” said Sam, “Cas has died for you a bazillion times. If it makes him feel better to hold your hand while he’s cursed, then let him. What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Dean sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest and both feet firmly planted in denial. 

“Did you bother to think that maybe it makes him feel safe?” asked Sam. “Did it occur to you that maybe it’s part of your ‘profound bond’ thing? Did it occur to you that making him feel better might actually help his memory?” 

“Now you’re just making shit up,” said Dean. 

“Stop being a macho dick-bag and be a friend to your angel,” said Sam. 

Dean rolled his eyes and extended his hand across the table. “Fine, hold my hand. See if it helps.” 

Cas pushed away from the table and stood. “I don’t really want to now.” 

Dean threw his hands in the air. 

“I would like to be alone somewhere,” said Cas. 

“You can go to my room,” said Sam.

Cas left and Sam glared at Dean. 

“What?” asked Dean. 

“You know what. Did you forget how to act like a person? What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Bullshit. You’ve been through Heaven, Purgatory and Hell for that guy. Now all he wants is to hold your hand and you treat him like a freaking leper.” 

“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep last night.” 

“That’s not his fault.” 

Dean bit his tongue. 

“Whatever,” muttered Sam. “I’m going on a run. You need to figure out how to fix this. Cas is family. We don’t treat family like this.” With that, he left Dean alone to stew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys and your sweet comments...making my little grinch heart grow and shit. Thank you...it's nice to login and read your messages #GayLovePiercedTheVeil
> 
> Sometimes I think about how awesome the show is and how much I love the characters...other times I imagine what the show would be like without the fandom. I think being a part of the fandom is what keeps me watching the show. It's nice to know other people think and feel the way I do. Anyway...sentiment aside...here's another chapter.

Dean paced outside of Sam’s room. Every time he worked up the nerve to open the door, he couldn’t make his hand connect with the knob. He had no plan. No words. No idea how to start this stupid conversation. No matter how many times he rehearsed, nothing seemed right.

_Cas, I’m sorry. I’m a dick._

_Cas, my bad. We can hold hands—just don’t be gay about it. Or do be gay about it._

_Hey buddy, you still mad?_

Then there was always the option of just throwing open the door, taking Cas in his arms and staring deeply into his eyes until it wasn’t weird anymore. Would it ever not be weird? Dean ran a hand through his hair. 

Suddenly Cas opened the door on his own. “You are very loud,” he said. 

Dean stopped his pacing. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry.” 

“I had no idea there were so many different approaches to an apology,” said Cas. 

Dean paled. “What?” 

“You’ve sent me a good deal of apologies over the past fifteen minutes. I’m inclined to forgive you just to make the messages stop.” 

 _Fuck._  

“I was praying,” said Dean, more to himself than to Cas. Of course he was praying. Of course he couldn’t get out of this with his dignity intact. 

Cas squinted. “It seems to have stopped. Thank you.” 

“S-sorry,” stammered Dean. 

“Please,” said Cas, “don’t apologize to me again for a while.” 

Dean nodded. 

“It’s strange,” began Cas, “your thoughts don’t always match your words. Your commentary is more prolific in your mind.” 

“Yeah.”

Cas was staring at him, examining him like a cell under a microscope. “Do you often pray to me?” 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Could you elaborate? I now know you aren’t as monosyllabic as you present yourself to be—though why you would behave in a manor contrary to your true nature is a mystery unto itself.” 

“I’m not behaving contrary to my nature,” said Dean. “What you see is what you get.” 

Cas squinted. “And yet I am seeing and getting two different things.” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. 

Cas rolled his shoulders and his wings ruffled in response. “How can we possibly be friends?” 

“We’ve been through a lot of shit together.” 

“Is that the only factor?” 

“It’s the main factor,” answered Dean. 

“Then surely I have other friends. Angels are ancient, aren’t they? Surely I’ve ‘been through a lot of shit’ with others.” 

“You’ve got Sam.” 

“Is Sam also an ancient being?” 

“No.” 

Cas’ wings ruffled again and he rubbed his brow. “Dean, I am trying to figure out if there is anywhere else I can go—if there are others who would be willing to assist me in recovering my memory.”

“You can’t leave. I told you, you’re in danger.” They were always in danger. At this point Dean couldn’t even remember who hated them and who was indifferent. Their friends were all dead. 

“I find it hard to believe that, as an angel, _you_ are my only option for safety.” 

“ _I’m_ your _best_ option.” 

“ _You_ are mean and contrary and I don’t like it.”

“Tough shit. I’m all you’ve got.” 

Cas stepped closer. “You’re all I’ve got?” 

“Me and Sam,” confirmed Dean. 

“In all of creation, you and Sam are all I’ve got.” 

“Yeah, welcome to our lives. It sucks.” 

Cas took another step closer, wings rising. “What,” he began slowly, “did I do to deserve this?” 

Dean glared and moved forward to match his advance, a biting retort on the tip of his tongue. A spark of bright blue grace crackled behind Cas’ eyes. This was the angel unbroken, uncontested, unburdened. This was Castiel before Dean, before perdition—the way Castiel was meant to be. He was pure. Dean inhaled sharply, then stepped back. 

“What happened?” asked Cas. 

“Nothing,” answered Dean. He turned, but the angel grabbed his shoulder and held him in place. Dean’s hand moved automatically to Castiel’s wrist. They stared at one another in silence. 

“I hurt you,” breathed Cas. “I hurt many.” 

“You didn’t,” said Dean.

“I did.” Cas’ face fell and he seemed to shrink in on himself. “I was bad. I can feel it.” 

“We’re all bad.” 

“The burden of my shame lies with you,” said Cas. “That’s why I repel you.” 

“You don’t repel me.” 

“Please stop lying,” said Cas. His voice was soft, small, and his eyes were no longer electric with power. “I didn’t choose to be drawn to you, but I am. I don’t understand it and I don’t like it, but even anger does not keep me away.” 

Dean had to actively remind himself to breathe in and out. He couldn’t stand to watch Cas crack and crumble again. 

“Who am I?” asked Cas. 

“You’re family,” answered Dean. 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

Cas jerked his hand away and stepped back, shaking his head. “This can’t be family.” He retreated back into Sam’s room and shut the door. 

Dean returned to his own room where a bottle of whiskey was waiting for him. 

Sam found him sometime later. He wanted to know what happened. Apparently, Cas had turned to Sam for answers. Sam said something about “proceeding with caution” because there lives were “a lot to digest.” 

Distantly, Dean heard himself mumble a response. 

“Is there a reason you’re not telling him stuff?” asked Sam. 

When Dean didn’t answer, Sam grabbed the empty bottle from beside Dean’s bed. 

“Train wreck,” muttered Sam. 

“Cas is good now,” said Dean.

“What?” 

“He doesn’t know us or our crap. We should let him go.” 

“Dude,” said Sam. He crouched down beside Dean’s bed. “What’s going on with you?” 

“He’s free, Sam. You could be free, too.” Dean felt the room spin. “We’re in a lull. Get out.” 

“It’s a little too late for any of us to get out,” said Sam. 

“Get out.” 

“What does that even mea—” 

Dean lurched forward and snatched the bottle from Sam. He hurled it against the wall and it shattered. “Get out!” he screamed. “Get out!” Darkness clouded the edges of his vision. Sam was shouting back. Something hot touched Dean’s head. There was a bright flash, then the world was still.

 

* * *

 

Dean came to with a throbbing headache. His tongue felt like cotton and his eyes were heavy in his skull. Suddenly, the pain was gone. He blinked and slowly took in his surroundings. Sam was still kneeling by his bed. Cas stood behind him with his arms folded over his chest. 

“You ok?” asked Sam. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. He propped himself up in bed and leaned against the headboard. 

Sam looked up at Cas. “Can you give us a second? I need to talk to Dean alone.” 

“Good luck with that,” said Cas. He left and shut the door behind him. 

Sam turned his attention back to Dean. “What the fuck was that?” 

Dean covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know. How long was I out?” 

“About ten minutes. Cas sobered you up and fixed your hangover, but I kinda think he wanted to let you suffer.” 

“Glad he didn’t.” 

“You remember yelling at me?” 

Dean groaned. “Yeah.” 

“You remember throwing your booze?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You want to explain what the hell happened?” 

“No.” 

“Dean.” 

He sighed, but left his hands over his face. He couldn’t look at Sam yet. “I drank too much. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Cas said you guys had a fight. Again.”

“We did.” 

“He said you apologized for being a dick, then continued to be a dick.” 

“That’s accurate.” 

“Why? I mean, you’re normally kind of a dick but this seems like a lot, even for you.” 

 _Cas wants to leave. Same wants to leave. Let them go before they get trapped here forever._  

“Dean?” There was a hint of panic in Sam’s voice. 

 _Don’t answer him. Every time you open your mouth you manipulate him. You drag him down._  

“You’re freaking me out, man. Talk to me,” said Sam. 

“Sorry,” said Dean. He swallowed hard and uncovered his face. “I think I’m delirious. I didn’t sleep last night.” 

A voice came from the other side of the door. “He is not delirious,” called Cas. “I assure you, I healed him thoroughly. His body is in perfect health, though I cannot speak to his state of mind.” 

“I told you I needed to talk to Dean alone,” called Sam. 

“You are alone,” said Cas. “I’m entirely out of the space and you are speaking to him by yourself. Also it has been significantly longer than a second.”

“God dammit,” muttered Sam. 

Dean grinned. At least mind-fucked Cas annoyed Sam, too. As quietly as it had appeared, the nasty little voice receded back into deeper thoughts. Dean relaxed. “You can come back in,” he called. 

Cas suddenly appeared right beside Sam. Both Winchesters jumped. 

“I remembered how to teleport,” said Cas. 

“Congratulations,” said Dean. 

“You are not delirious,” he continued. “You are under a great deal of emotional stress. The internet says you need help.” 

“You remember how to use the internet now, too?” asked Dean. 

“That came back to me earlier today.”

“Why’s Dean lashing out?” asked Sam. 

“He’s not a shrink,” said Dean. “He’s just going off of WebMD nonsense.” 

Cas disappeared then reappeared again holding Sam’s laptop. “While you were talking, I searched for an answer.” 

Sam took the computer back and opened the browser history. Dean leaned in to look at the screen. Cas had searched _my friend is mean and intoxicated,_  followed by _my friend has an alcohol problem,_  and finally _heal alcoholism._  

Sam closed his computer and looked up at Dean. “If you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine. But if you don’t talk about it at all, it’s going to get worse.” 

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” said Dean. 

“Maybe not, but you definitely have some kind of problem and you clearly can’t fix it yourself.” 

Cas titled his head to the side. Slowly, he extended his hand, palm open. Dean stared at it for a moment, then reached up and surrendered his own hand. 

Sam must have understood that as some kind of signal because he sighed and stood up. He clapped Cas on the shoulder. “I’m going to find food,” he said. "If I hear yelling, I'm coming back." He left and shut the door behind him. 

Cas was still staring at Dean. He waited a moment, until Sam’s footsteps faded, before speaking. “This is right, isn’t it?” 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know.” 

Cas smoothed his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand. “This feels right.” He sat on the edge of the bed. 

“If you remembered, you wouldn’t say that,” said Dean. 

“Is that why you are so uncooperative when I ask questions?”

“Probably,” muttered Dean. 

Cas moved his free hand to Dean’s chest, fingers splayed against his t-shirt. “You’re sad.” 

“Sometimes.” 

“You’re lonely.” 

“I’ve got you and Sam.”

“We’re all we have,” said Cas. Then he frowned. “Though Sam also has a woman.”

“What?” asked Dean.

“I found female clothing in Sam’s room in a size too small for Sam to wear.” 

“That sneaky bastard.” He moved to sit up, but Cas’ hand held him in place. 

“I don’t want to remember,” said Cas. 

“Why?” 

“Because we don’t normally hold hands,” answered Cas, “and I don’t want to let go of you yet.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the sweet comments! As a reward, you get two chapters and some smut. #PutThatCockBackWhereItCameFromOrSoHelpMe

Dean sat in silence with the angel. They were seated across from one another on the bed. Cas seemed to be lost in thought. Occasionally, he’d run a finger over the hem of Dean’s pants, or let his fingers ghost over Dean’s shoulder. Dean, to his credit, kept his mouth shut through the whole ordeal. Maybe it would help Cas remember. 

After a while Cas shifted his wings and lifted his hand to Dean’s cheek. 

Dean flinched ever so slightly, but it was enough to make Cas pull away. 

“Apologies,” muttered Cas. 

“It’s ok,” said Dean. “I just wasn’t expecting that. You can—uh—if you want—” 

“I can try again?” asked Cas. 

Dean nodded.

Cas raised his hand again and rested it again Dean’s cheek.

Almost on instinct, Dean raised his own hand to cover Cas’. Then they were back to staring. There was less than two feet between them. Dean could close that distance in under a second; push Cas back onto the bed and kiss him with the force of about a decade’s worth of pent-up sexual tension. He’d have Cas flat on his back; those beautiful blue eyes wide with surprise. Dean would teach him every trick in the book and they could spend the rest of their lives discovering what made the other moan and beg and tremble. 

One move. That’s all it would take. One push and Cas would know. One moment and everything would change. 

Dean searched the angel’s eyes for courage. A nod, a smile, a wink; anything to let him know Cas wanted the same. Instead, as he gazed into those icy blue eyes, he saw them shimmer. Cas frowned slightly and his hand began to shake. He blinked and tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. 

Dean wasn’t sure if he should pull away or move closer, so he just held still. “What’s wrong?” 

“My vessel is executing a physical reaction to my emotions,” answered Cas.

“Yeah, I kinda got that part,” said Dean. “I meant what made you feel like crying?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Cas. “This is very nice. I have no idea why it has caused such a reaction.”

Dean took a chance and wiped a tear away. Cas seemed to lean into the touch so Dean pulled him closer. Cas followed his lead and allowed Dean to embrace him. They leaned back against the headboard together and Cas rested against Dean’s chest, wings spreading to cover them, their legs tangled together.

“I have no explanation for my behavior,” said Cas.

Dean laughed. “That’s ok. I usually don’t have an explanation for the shit I do.” 

“I suppose this type of embrace isn’t something we normally do either, is it?” 

“Not really,” answered Dean. “You held me like this once, when you pulled me out of Hell. Other than that we— _I_ kept my distance.” 

“What were you doing in Hell?” Cas ran his hand over Dean’s shoulder, over the spot that was once scarred by the grip of Cas’ true form. 

“I died.” 

“Did you deserve to be in Hell?” 

Dean laughed again. “Yeah, probably. I made a deal with a demon and ended up there.”

“Demons are bad,” said Cas.

“Generally, that seems to be the case.”

Cas made a sound suspiciously like a yawn and Dean craned his neck to look down at him. 

“Strange,” said Cas, “my energy seems to be depleting.” 

“Are you tired?” 

“I think so.” 

Dean frowned. “How do you feel otherwise?”

Cas yawned again. “Just tired,” he answered. “I thought you said angels don’t require sleep.”

“They don’t.”

“Strange,” muttered Cas. His head rested heavier against Dean’s chest.

“Hey, stay with me,” said Dean. “I don’t think this is normal.” 

“I am with you,” murmured Cas. 

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Dean shook him lightly. “Cas?”

No answer. The angel’s breathing slowed. 

“Cas?” Dean repeated his name louder. By the third time, he was shouting but Cas remained unresponsive. Dean called for backup. “Sam!” 

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Sam burst into the room. 

“What happened?” he asked. “What did—” He stopped when he saw Cas pillowed against Dean in the bed. “Well, that’s new.” 

“I don’t need your sass,” snapped Dean. “He’s asleep. That's bad, right? He doesn’t need to sleep. I can’t wake him up.”

Sam circled around the bed and leaned over to inspect the angel. “What happened? Did he say he felt bad or anything?”

“No,” answered Dean. “We were just talking and he randomly got tired and passed out.”

“He looks pretty comfortable.”

Dean glared. “I knew you were going to be an ass about this. If you’re just going to sit there a make jokes, you can fuck the hell off. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Sam held up his hands in defense. “Dude, chill. I had no idea this was a—that you and Cas were—are a _this_.” He gestured at the bed. “Is _this_ a _thing_? Are you guys a thing? Holy shit, are you gay? Or bi? How long have you known? Wait. When did this start? Is this why you guys weren’t speaking earlier?” Sam suddenly looked angry. “Why didn’t you tell me? What about that girl at the bar last week? Were you cheating on Cas? Because I absolutely will not cover for you. You can’t treat him—” 

“Shut up,” said Dean. “Please god, shut up. We’re not a thing. Cas just doesn’t remember how it was—he’s adjusting and I’m trying not to be an ass per _your_ stupid recommendation.” 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, one eyebrow raised. “But he likes you.” 

Dean could feel his cheeks burning. He hated Sam. “I don’t know,” said Dean. 

“Do you like him?”

“No I—” 

“Bullshit. I’ve seen porn with less sexual tension than you two have around each other.” 

“Can we discuss this later?” growled Dean. “Just help me move Mr. Comatose.” 

Sam bent to move a wing while Dean wiggled free. 

“I knew it,” muttered Sam. “I should have taken so many bets. I’d be rich right now.” 

“Always encouraging to know your brother is willing to bet on your love life,” muttered Dean. 

“Love being the operative word.” 

Dean tumbled off of the bed and landed in a heap in front of Sam. He pushed himself up and jabbed a finger in Sam’s direction. “You’re a child.” 

Sam grinned. “But you do love him, right? Are you bi, or pan? I want to get the terminology right. Oh, but you’re probably still in the closet. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” 

“Chuck give me strength,” muttered Dean. 

“It’s ok,” continued Sam. He seemed dangerously close to gearing up for a hug. “You know that, right? No one cares who you love. You’re still my brother. This doesn’t change anything.” 

“That’s nice,” said Dean, rolling his eyes and stepping away. “Can we talk about this later? We’ve got an angel to fix.” 

“Yeah, but you have to swear we _will_ talk about this later.” 

“I swear.” 

“Good.” Sam was practically beaming. “Now is probably a good time to mention that I found a memory spell.”

 

* * *

 

Sam had the spell marked  and a list of ingredients prepared. The book went into excruciating detail on how to create, cast and complete the spell but conveniently left out any mention of spell reversal. 

“I vote we capture Rowena and make her talk,” said Dean, glaring down at the page. “She’s like a thousand years old. I’m sure she knows something.” 

“I might know someone who can help us,” said Sam. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

Sam cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “There’s this hunter—you know them—we worked together on a case not too long ago. Anyway, they might be able to help us. They know a few things about witches and spells.” 

“By ‘they’ do you mean she?” asked Dean. “And by ‘she’ do you mean Eileen?” 

Sam turned bright red. 

“I knew it,” shouted Dean. “You are sucker for chicks who know their lore.” He mentally thanked Cas for giving him a heads up. Dean would have to pester Sam about sneaking a girl into the bunker later. 

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Sam. “Point being, I think she can help. I’d rather go to her than Rowena or Crowley.”

“I’m sure you would.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, Gertrude. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” 

Sam huffed. “Right. Because I’m the one who’s overly sensitive about my love life.” 

“Stop saying ‘love life.’” 

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push the issue. “Like I was saying—I think Eileen can help us. She and I can compare notes and once we have the counter spell, we’ll come back here with the ingredients.”

“Oh, I get it,” said Dean. “This is your excuse for a romantic getaway. If you wanted time off, you could have just said something.”

Sam shrugged. “We don’t get to see each other much and I really would like her advice. I can’t help it if those two things coincide.”

“I’m guessing I’m not invited.” 

“Someone has to stay and watch Cas,” said Sam.

“Sounds like you thought of everything.”

Sam glanced back down at his book, smiling to himself.

“All right,” said Dean. “I’ll watch the angel, you go learn magic with your girlfriend. Don’t get too sidetracked, though. Cas really is messed up.” 

“I won’t leave you guys hanging,” said Sam. “I promise.”

They collected a few more books for Sam to take with him for reference. He messaged Eileen and they planned to leave that afternoon. Dean tried to remind himself that just because Sam was excited to spend time with his girlfriend did not mean Sam was excited to leave the bunker and his family. 

As he watched his brother load up the car and wave goodbye, Dean forced himself to remember that Sam would come back. He always came back. 

 _New mission. New partner. New life._  

Dean frowned at the silent library. When the silence turned to ringing in his ears, he left and retreated to his bedroom. 

Cas had turned over at some point. He was now on his side with his wings stretched out behind him. 

Dean sat on the edge of his bed and put a hand on the angel’s shoulder. What happened next was a blur. Dean smoothed his hand over Cas’ sleeping form then suddenly found himself pinned to the bed, flat on his back with Cas wide-eyed, breathing heavily above him.

It took the angel a moment to release his grip and sit up. He was straddling the hunter’s hips, wings flared, face flushed. “Dean,” he breathed. 

Dean kept his hands on either side of his head where Cas had pinned him just a moment before. “Uh, hey,” said Dean.

Cas ran a hand over his face, his other hand resting against his own leg. “Apologies. I’m not sure what came over me.” Cas shifted his weight ever so slightly and Dean’s brain short-circuited. 

He suddenly had to abandon his reply in favor of focusing all of his mental strength on his crotch. A chilling current ran through his body and left his muscles tingling and twitching. He’d been electrocuted before, but it was nothing compared to this. 

“Dean, are you all right?” Cas was looking down at him, head tilted. 

Dean made a noise he hoped sounded like “yes.” 

Cas was staring at him again. Dean couldn’t make himself move. A voice was screaming something at him in his head—something about stopping, or changing, or control—but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own heart pounding against his ribcage. 

Cas’ feathers ruffled and the angel squinted. “Strange,” he murmured. “I believe my pheromones are influencing you.” 

Dean pressed his lips into a firm line and swallowed hard. “Wh—phero—” 

Cas shifted his weight again, this time to lift himself from Dean’s lap. He crawled off of the bed and tucked his still twitching wings behind him. “I remember hearing about this somehow,” muttered Cas. He rubbed his temple as if trying to urge the memory forward. 

Dean managed to push himself up into a siting position, but that was as far as he got. 

Cas began pacing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t look at you right now. You make it difficult to concentrate.” 

“Thought you were sick,” croaked Dean. “You were asleep.” 

“I was tired,” answered Cas, he glanced at Dean. “Do angel’s bond? Does that sound familiar?”

Dean caught Cas’ blue eyes and could not look away. “Don’t know,” he answered. 

Cas fell silent. He licked his lips and moved back toward the bed. “I think,” he began softly, “my vessel is interfering with my celestial functionality.” He began to remove his trench coat. When it wouldn’t fit over his wings, Castiel ripped the garment and let it fall to the floor; it was followed quickly by his jacket. 

As the angel approached, Dean stumbled from the bed to stand in front of him, mouth slightly agape. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly. 

Cas stood before him, then reached out a hand and braced it against Dean’s chest. He closed his eyes and Dean suddenly felt his thoughts creep back. 

“I think I normally avoid you during this time,” muttered Castiel. “I think when this happens, I find an excuse for solitude. I’m not sure why.” 

Dean shook his head as the fog subsided. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “I think you’re in heat—or angel heat or something.” 

Cas nodded and hung his head to face the floor. “I think this is the time most angels are called to seek out a bond.” 

“Is that like mating season? Like when penguins give each other rocks and shit?” 

Cas nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard penguins do that sort of thing. There is a bird that lives in the rainforest that creates elaborate displays of berries and mushrooms to attract a female.” 

“Ok,” said Dean slowly. “So is the memory-loss thing part of that or—”

“I’m not sure.” 

“What do we do? Do you need to find a nice lady angel? Should I take you to a bar? Do you normally go som—” 

Cas looked up again, blue eyes burning into Dean. “I am almost certain I spend this time alone. I can’t be sure, but I believe angels bond for eternity. I think—I have reason to believe—” Cas seemed to lose the end of his sentence. 

Dean could almost hear the rest of Cas’ thought in his own mind. “You leave so you don’t end up bonded to me.” 

Cas clenched his jaw.

Dean blinked and broke their trance. He pushed Cas’ hand away from his chest and stepped back.

_Cas actively avoids you when he feels most vulnerable. He knows better than to tie himself to you forever._

“Please don’t be frightened,” said Cas. “I would never force that fate on you.” 

Dean closed his eyes. “If your had your memory, you’d know that it’s for your own good that you stay away from me.” He heard Cas sigh.

“I’m sure there’s a reason I have not bonded with you, but the fact that the pull is manifesting in a physical way must mean my grace is drawn to a human—to you. That must mean I _want_ to bond with you. If I haven’t done so, Dean, I assure you it’s only out of respect for your wishes.” 

Dean bit his lip. “We’re not good for each other. I keep hurting you.” 

“And yet,” said Cas, “it’s taking all the restraint I possess not to move closer to you right now.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then there was smut...and it was good #WasItGoodForYou

Dean wiped his brow. The room was sweltering. He had no idea when it became so hot. 

“Admittedly I don’t have much to compare to," said Cas, "but I firmly believe this is what desire feels like.” 

Dean huffed and struggled to keep his eyes closed. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” 

Something slid against the floor then Dean heard the shuffle of bare feet on carpet. 

“I want you,” said Cas.

Dean squeezed his eyes tighter. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t remember me. You’ve known me for a day. I suck, I promise you. If we do this—whatever this is—you’ll regret it.” 

“Will you regret it?” 

Cas was closer now. He was so fucking close Dean could feel the heat rolling off of the angel’s body.

He shuttered as he exhaled. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“That wasn’t my question,” said Cas.

Dean bit his lip.

“Please,” breathed Cas. “I need to know.”

Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“I want you,” Cas repeated. “I am sure of that. I do not want to make you do something you will regret, but I sense your hesitation is concern on my behalf. Am I wrong?” 

Dean shook his head. He needed to think but Cas was too close again. His brain was begging him to open his eyes.

“Do you want me?” asked Cas softly. 

“Yes,” breathed Dean. He looked up, eyes wide drinking in the sight of the creature before him. “I want you.”

Something like relief washed over Castiel’s expression as soon as their eyes met. The hunter licked his lips. Fuck it. Memory or not, whatever Cas’ grace was doing had them both under a spell. They probably could have fought back—they’d fought against worse—but they both seemed to recognize this surrender was their only excuse for tenderness. 

Dean surged forward and grabbed a fistful of Cas’ white button down and crushed their lips together.

As soon as their lips met, instinct seemed to kick in for Castiel. He grabbed Dean by his hair, locking him into place. With his other hand, he moved Dean’s flannel over-shirt to the side and wrapped his arm around the hunter’s waist. 

Dean scrapped his teeth against Cas’ bottom lip and the angel trembled in his arms. He pressed his hips into Cas and waited to see if he was moving too quickly.

Castiel pressed back, erection brushing against Dean’s thigh. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Dean hushed him. “I want you,” he whispered. He nipped at Cas’ earlobe as he released his grip on the button down shirt. He let his hand slide down, making sure his fingernails drug against the fabric. Cas’ breath hitched and his hips bucked forward.

Castiel maintained an iron grip on the hunter to keep himself from shaking. “I don’t know what to do,” he said quietly. 

Dean licked at the skin beneath Cas’ ear. “I do.” He breathed the words against the angel’s neck. He shifted his weight and began rocking his thigh against Cas’ erection. “You ok?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Dean grinned as he leaned in for another kiss. He grabbed Cas’ hip to hold the angel steady. He pulled his thigh away, lined up against Cas’ pelvis and thrust forward, hard and slow. When Cas moaned, Dean swallowed the noise and allowed his tongue to explore further into Castiel’s mouth. How long had he waited to hear Cas make that sound? The angel melted against him. 

Dean sucked on Cas’ lip, deliberately teasing. The angel’s eyes were wide with lust and wonder. He began to peel away Cas’ clothing, hips still gently thrusting back and forth. Cas leaned his head back and Dean latched onto his neck as he stripped him.

Castiel, for his part, managed to toe off his shoes and socks. He closed his eyes as he searched for the edge of Dean’s flannel, then removed it. 

Dean helped him the rest of the way and quickly removed his own shirt, followed by his shoes and socks. He dug his teeth gently to Castiel’s neck. 

He trailed a line of wet kisses down his chest, finally stopping to tongue at his nipple. He shoved Cas’ pants down to the floor; their throbbing members separated only by thin fabric. Dean curled his back outward as his tongue licked across Castiel’s chest to the other nipple, then resumed rocking slowly against Castiel’s pelvis. 

Dean flattened his tongue against Cas’ nipple, then kissed his way back up to the crook of Cas’ neck. “You like that?” 

A broken “yes” was all Castiel managed to say. 

Testing the boundaries yet again, Dean shifted his thrusts to the groove of Cas’ hip, and gently rubbed his palm against Cas’ aching cock. Cas moaned again and dug his nails into Dean’s back as he pushed his hips into Dean’s hand. Cas was starved for this kind of touch, it was clear. But Dean had waited almost a decade to find the time—and courage—to make his move. He didn’t know when he would get another chance like this. He was determined to make it last. 

Cas made a sound like a whimper. “Dean, please.” 

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” asked Dean. He moved his hand up and slipped his fingers below the waistband of Cas’ boxers. He let his hand inch down. When his fingers finally wrapped around Cas’ bare cock, the angel thrust hard against him, eyes flashing blue with grace. 

“I want,” gasped Cas. 

Dean pumped his hand slowly, deliberately forcing Cas to match the movement. “Tell me what you want,” said Dean.

Cas snapped his fingers and the rest of their clothes disappeared. He grabbed Dean, dug his fingers into his hair and pushed him down onto the bed. He pressed himself down against the human, their cocks slotting together. He licked his way into Dean’s mouth and bit down hard on his lower lip.

Dean grinned. This was more than sex. This was a game of dominance and Dean had the home field advantage. He locked his knees around Cas, gathered all of his strength and flipped the angel onto his back. 

Cas’ wings flapped wildly, colliding with the side table as Dean moved to straddle him.

Without waiting for a counter attack, Dean dug his hands into the soft feathers at the base of Cas’ wings. 

“Dean,” screamed Cas. A flash of grace poured from his mouth and Dean swallowed it. Cas moaned as the hunter’s fingers massaged though the feathers. Dean gripped down again, this time grinding his hips down at the same time. Castiel cried out and arched off of the bed.

The angel’s fingers latched onto Dean’s back, fingernails digging into his skin. 

Dean bit down on Cas’ neck and began rhythmically pumping his hips. 

Cas threw his head back; moaning, begging, crying, calling out for Dean. “Please,” groaned Cas. “I don’t—I can’t—please.” 

Dean slowed his hips, rubbing their members together in slow circles. He stroked though Cas’ feathers gently, rubbing his thumbs into the muscles where wings met shoulder blades. He licked against the angry red mark now forming on Cas’ neck.

“Trust me?” Dean breathed into his skin.

“Implicitly,” answered Cas. 

Dean lifted his head to kiss the angel deeply, alternating tongue and lips. He let one hand slide down Cas’ torso, past his lean stomach and sharp hipbones and he took Castiel’s cock into his hand. 

Cas let out a broken cry against Dean’s mouth as his hips stuttered into Dean’s fist. He gasped and begged again for more, harder, faster. 

Dean pulled slowly away from Cas’ mouth and trailed a line of kisses down the angel’s body. He paused to nip and suckle at Cas’ hips. He used his free hand to press Cas’ pelvis down into the mattress. 

The angel watched him, wide-eyed and completely obedient. When Dean flicked his tongue against the head of Castiel’s cock, the angel threw his head back and cried out again. His hands tangled in Dean’s hair, seemingly struggling between pushing the hunter’s head down further and pulling him back up for another kiss. 

Dean bit his lip and waited for Cas to look down at him again. He wanted the angel to see everything. Panting, Cas finally made eye contact.

Dean seized the opportunity and moaned loudly as he eased Cas deep into his mouth. 

Cas’ entire body seized and he gasped. “T-t-too much,” he stuttered. “I c-c-can’t.”

Dean licked at he underside of Cas’ cock as he pulled back. He kissed the inside of Cas’ thigh and pumped his hand slowly up and down the shaft. 

“Should I stop?” asked Dean. 

“N-n-no,” gasped Cas. “I’ve never felt—please don’t stop. I need more. Please.” 

“Look at me.”

Cas obeyed.

Dean returned his tongue to flick against the head of his partner’s member. He lowered his mouth to Cas’ testicles and suckled one into his mouth. He rolled it against his tongue until Cas’ whole body shook and he begged him to stop. Then Dean turned his attention to the other one. 

Cas was a writhing, sweating mess beneath him. His legs kicked and flexed against the sheets. His wings spasmed as they flared and contracted. Their bodies were drenched with sweat and every taste of Castiel was salty and hot. 

Dean licked at his cock again and swallowed him. Cas bucked into his mouth, forcing Dean’s nose to press into his belly. Dean hollowed his cheeks and pulled back, then crashed forward again, his tongue rubbing mercilessly against the underside of Cas’ cock. 

The angel’s hands began to shake and his grip became weak in Dean’s hair. “Please,” he whimpered. “Come back. N-n-need to see you.” 

Dean pulled away and with one last swipe over his cock, nipped a trail back up to Cas’ mouth.

“Come with me,” whimpered Cas. “I don’t know—I just need—” 

“Shh,” soothed Dean. “I’ve got you.” He ran a hand through the angel’s damp hair. Tears were beginning to pool at the edge of Cas’ eyes. Dean kissed him softly. “Still ok?”

“Yes,” answered Cas. “This is just very overwhelming.” 

Dean began to rut slowly against the soft skin where Cas’ hip met his thigh. He moaned and kissed the angel again. “Good overwhelming or bad overwhelming?” 

“Good,” breathed Cas. “Definitely good.” 

Dean flattened his tongue against the hickey he’d created earlier. He rolled his hips down harder and moaned into the crook of Cas’ neck. The angel wrapped his arms around him. Dean cupped his cheek and slid his other hand down to grasp their aching members and press them together.

“Come for me, Cas,” whispered Dean. He pumped into his fist and Cas thrust upwards, matching the rhythm. Their cocks were wet and slick with precome and saliva. Dean choked back a whimper and shuddered against the man beneath him. 

Cas ran his hand down to the dip of Dean’s lower back, encouraging him to thrust harder. 

“I want to feel you come.” Dean breathed the words against Cas’ lips. The angel’s body trembled, wings quivering, hands grasping desperately against Dean’s back. He came with Dean’s name on his lips and as he shook through the last swells of his orgasm, Dean's own orgasm burned low in his stomach. Dean came, moaning into Castiel’s mouth. 

They lay together, bodies pulsing, with Dean’s hand still gripping them. After a few minutes, Cas raised a hand and began stroking through Dean’s hair. His eyes were heavy and dark as he looked up from the pillow.

Dean grinned and kissed him again. “I hope that was what you wanted.”

Cas nodded eagerly. “I had no idea—but yes—I wanted that very much.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke up before Cas the next morning. The angel was sound asleep with his wings curled around Dean. The hunter managed to wiggle free without waking him. He was sweaty and hot and several soft black feathers stuck to his skin, but he didn’t mind. He was still riding the high of yesterday’s bliss 

He texted Sam ( _Cas woke up, seemed normal. Stayed awake until he got tired again_ ) and admitted to nothing. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain angel heat or the fact that he and Cas may or may not be bonded—whatever that meant. At one point he remembered Cas’ mouth glowing blue. Dean may or may not have swallowed grace. Were they angel-married now? Dean had followed his dick into precarious situations before, but none had ever matched the magnitude of this potential fuck-up. 

He should probably have been more upset about the whole thing, but right now all he wanted was to shower, then crawl back underneath those fucking majestic wings.

He wandered, still naked, down the hall to the bathroom that was unofficially his. Someday, if the world ever took a break from teetering on the verge of imminent doom, he’d figure out how to knock out a few walls and expand his room into a master suite. The bunker was home, but it needed a few personal touches. He needed to fix up the extra bedrooms in case they needed to house victims, guests, prophets or something else. The kitchen could be bigger. Dean had always wanted a bar/informal dining area. Two ovens would be nice. 

He turned on the water and checked the temperature. The water pressure was perfect, but they’d need a new water heater eventually. He’d have to figure out how to install that without blowing up the place.

He ducked his head under the shower and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. The shower was flat and open, locker-room style. A tub would be nice. Dean was pretty sure he was four years old the last time he took a bath. A jacuzzi would be better-hot water, bubbles, curled up with Cas and a glass of scotch after a long hunt.

The warm spray trickled down his body and he exhaled, fantasizing about building a home. If Cas stayed with him, they’d need a bigger room. If Sam and Eileen moved in together—and if Sam decided to stay at the bunker—they’d need more space, too.

Long ago someone built a warehouse above the bunker as a cover, but it would make a nice expansion. The bones of the structure were solid. This place could be more than a Batcave. It could be home. They could be a family.

Dean let his forehead rest against the cool tile as the steam rose up around him. They could be a family if the world calmed down, if Sam was happy here, if Eileen survived loving him, if Cas would stay, if their parents were still alive, if no one else died, if Dean ever stopped pushing people away. 

The bunker was too big for one person. It was too private, too empty. 

Suddenly a strong, warm arm snaked around Dean’s waist. He felt someone nuzzle into the back of his neck. The shower space darkened as large black wings rose and enveloped him. 

“I hope last night isn’t the cause of your current stress,” said Cas. His voice was deep and gravely with sleep. He kissed Dean’s exposed skin and held him tight to his chest.

Dean closed his eyes and let himself relax. “No, just got lost in thought.”

“Allow me to distract you.” Cas slid a hand down to Dean’s cock and began teasing the shaft. He rocked his hips to set a pace. 

Dean sighed and let his head fall back against the angel’s shoulder. He turned and Cas kissed him.

“I don’t like it when your thoughts feel dark,” said Cas. He pumped his hand slowly in time with his hips. 

“You can—you can f-f-feel my thoughts?” stammered Dean. His brain was struggling to focus. 

“Generally, yes,” answered Cas. “At first I assumed I was the cause of the darkness, but now I think it is just part of who you are.” He kissed the spot where Dean’s neck met his shoulder. “You adorn yourself with shame and sadness the way others adorn themselves with jewels.” He pulled Dean tighter to his chest. “I think it is the mire of that burden that makes you so beautiful.” 

Dean sighed and entwined his fingers with Castiel’s where the pressed into his ribs. “I wish you could remember how it was,” he said. “I’m not a good person.” 

Cas bit softly at Dean’s neck. “I get the distinct impression,” he said, “that I am not a good person either.” He rocked faster against Dean, his erection pressing into the flesh of the hunter’s ass. “But we are good together,” he continued. “You saw me on the road and stopped. You knew something was wrong.” He thrust his hips forward a little harder, pumping Dean’s cock faster. “You brought me home where you knew I’d be safe.”

Dean tried to turn, but Cas held him in place. Dean caught the faintest glimpse of blue light glowing from behind him. “Cheater,” muttered Dean.

“You took control last night,” said Cas. “It is my turn.”

“I didn’t take control, I won control,” said Dean. “Winner gets to make the loser beg.”

Cas bit down hard on Dean’s neck. “I don’t think you want to establish that rule,” he murmured. “I am an angel. I am much stronger than you.” 

“I’m a hunter,” said Dean. “I’ve still got a few tricks.” 

Cas moved his hand from Dean’s cock and slid it around to his ass. He slipped his long, lean fingers between Dean’s cheeks and began rubbing against his hole.

Dean stopped breathing. Cas stopped rocking his hips.

Dean cleared his throat. “We’re quickly approaching uncharted territory here,” he said.

“I did some research last night while you slept,” said Cas. He pressed his lips to Dean’s ear. “I’m confident I can make this a pleasant experience for us both. However,” he kissed the soft skin beneath Dean’s earlobe, “if you need more time, or reassurance or the opportunity to conduct your own research, I understand.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip. “Is this—are we—does this complete the bond or something?” 

Cas dropped his wings so they enclosed around Dean and moved his hand away from Dean’s ass. He wrapped both arms around the hunter’s waist and managed to pull Dean even closer into his chest. “I can’t say for certain,” answered Cas.

“Have we already bonded?” 

“I don’t know.” Cas gave a slight tremble as Dean absentmindedly began to run his fingers through the large black feathers. 

The angel was hot against his skin—so much hotter than the water pouring down on them. Cas began rocking them again, but he pulled their bodies side to side instead of back and fourth. “I am also content to simply stay like this,” he said. “Holding you seems to sooth something in me.” 

Dean snorted. “Pretty sure as soon as I turn around and we make eye contact we’re going to go straight back to mouth breathing and heavy-petting.

“It _would_ be difficult to go without making eye contact with you ever again.” 

Dean bit his lip and turned around in Cas’ arms. Eyes closed, he kissed his angel and pressed himself into soft skin and lean muscles. 

Cas’ pupils were heavily dilated once they pulled away. “Are you done with your shower?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. 

Without warning there was a loud _whoosh_ , then he was standing back in his room with Cas still wrapped around him. Dean shivered once at the cool air. Cas snapped his fingers and they were both suddenly dry.

“You are so damn proud of yourself for remembering how to teleport, aren’t you,” muttered Dean. 

Cas actually blushed. “Admittedly it is exciting to know I posses such a skill.” 

Dean kissed him again. Cas walked him backwards to the bed. 

“So you’re confident?” asked Dean. He leaned his forehead against Cas’. “I mean—you know the uh—protocol, or technique or whatever for guy stuff?”

Cas cupped Dean’s face in both hands and ran his thumbs gently over his cheeks. “I have a fairly thorough understanding.” Cas kissed him. “I practiced a bit on my own while you slept, though admittedly the lack of a partner changed the dynamic.” 

“You—huh—ok—so I slept through you learning sex?”

“Technically you slept through me learning to masturbate.”

Dean’s hips took on a mind of their own and thrust softly against Cas. The angel kissed him again, then placed a hand on the hunter’s chest and shoved. Dean toppled onto the mattress behind him. Cas crawled forward and settled on top of him. 

Already naked, Cas went straight for Dean’s dick. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and began stroking him slowly. 

Dean whimpered. 

“This is good?” asked Cas.

“Everything you do is good,” answered Dean.

Cas kissed him again.

Dean felt something tingling at the base of his spine. It spread down to his thighs and up his back simultaneously. Suddenly something moved inside of him and pleasure crashed over him like a wave.

“What the,” he gasped as it happened again. Cas’ hands were nowhere near his prostate and that seemed to be the point of origin. “How did?” His toes curled and his body arched off of the bed when it happened again. 

Cas was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I recall you usually refer to this as my ‘angel mojo,’ correct?”

“You son of a bitch,” panted Dean. “I can’t compete with magic sex.”

“You have more practical knowledge,” said Cas. “I need some kind of an advantage.” He nudged Dean’s legs apart and let their erections press together. He undulated his hips and hit Dean with another surge of grace. His lips moved down the hunter’s neck. “Dean,” he began, “I would like to—”

“Yes,” said Dean. His toes curled and he gripped Cas’ wings. His fingers danced through the feathers until he found the sensitive spots that made Cas tremble and moan. 

“Cheater,” muttered Cas.

“Does that mean I’m winning?” asked Dean.

Cas titled his head, frowning as he studied Dean. He leaned in for a slow, deep kiss.

Dean felt grace trigger another spark in his gut, but it didn’t explode and consume him. It burned slowly. Dean ran his hands through Cas’ feathers.

Cas pulled his hips away. He cupped Dean’s cheek in one hand and used the other to move Dean’s legs again.

Through the pleasure haze now clogging his brain, Dean recognized the need to adjust his position. He followed Cas’ lead and planted both feet on the mattress. The angel was situated heavily between his legs. Something warm and hard pressed against his hole.

Cas wedged his hand between their bodies and gripped Dean’s cock.

The grace-powered-barely-there prostate massage increased in speed. Dean couldn’t stop shaking. He felt himself opening up, un-fingered and unprompted. The pleasure was too overpowering. Cas carded his fingers through Dean’s hair while the other continued to stroke his cock. Every time he gasped for breath, Cas would latch onto his mouth and lock him in a kiss. He couldn’t speak, think or strategize, but he quickly decided magic-sex was his new favorite. 

Three things happened at once. The pressure on his prostate increased and Cas seized that moment to thrust into Dean and the combined sensations took Dean to the very edge of an orgasm. Then Cas pulled back.

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut. He felt the grace recede. The pressure on his prostate was replaced by Cas’ cock pushing against it. Dean clung to the angel, suddenly hyperaware of how unbreakable Cas was. Every muscle in Dean’s body was taunt and he’d wrapped himself around Cas with every ounce of strength he could manage.

Cas pulled out slowly then reentered with the same slow drag.

“Cas,” breathed Dean. It was the only word he could think to say.

“Is this still good?” asked Cas, voice shaking. 

Dean nodded. “Harder.”

Cas massaged his thumb just beneath the head of Dean’s cock and thrust into him again.

“Where,” panted Dean, “the fuck—did you learn—that?” 

Cas laughed. He leaned in for another kiss and thrust harder and faster into the hunter.

Dean lost track of time. Cas moaned and his hips stuttered as he teetered on the edge. Dean was raw nerves and bliss and when Cas hit the sweet spot again, they seized, burned, burst, and finally melted together back into the mattress.

Cas was petting him, kissing him, calling him ridiculous things like “perfect” and “beautiful.” 

Dean held the angel against him, their chests rising and falling together. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into his partner’s neck. “I love you, Cas.” 

“I love you, t—” Cas stopped. His body tensed and he suddenly felt cold.

Dean snapped to attention. “What happened?” He searched Cas’ eyes, half expecting to find them glazed over or closed. 

Cas was staring back at him, blue eyes wide. He moved his hands to either side of Dean’s head and pushed himself up. He stumbled, weak-kneed off of the bed and backed across the room until he hit a wall.

Dean sat up, a little groggy, but more panicked. “Talk to me,” he said. “What’s going on?” He stood to move closer, but Cas shook his head. 

The angel snapped his fingers and suddenly his wings were gone and he and Dean were both clean and clothed.

Dean’s blood ran cold. “You remember,” he breathed. 

Cas nodded, a tinge of green coloring his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said. He found a spot on the floor just ahead of Dean’s feet and stared at it. 

“It’s ok,” said Dean. “It’s actually way better than ok—”

Cas looked up. “I will never be able to express how much I regret what I’ve done to you.” 

“You didn’t do any—”

“Please,” said Cas. “You’re under a spell—my spell—I’ve done—” He shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “You are the last person I would hurt. I can erase the memories if you’d like, though you have a right to remember what I did to you.”

“No,” said Dean. “Don’t—I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t do anything stupid.” He moved forward. “Let’s talk. We kind of broke new ground. I can explain everything, but first I need you to relax a little.”

Cas laughed, a sick and hollow sound. He ran a hand over his face. “I am selfish. You are good. You’ve always been good.” A familiar, distant expression began to bleed over his face. “Please think of yourself as you were before you met me.”

“Don’t you dare leave.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Dean lunged forward, but the angel was faster. Dean collided with the wall, arms empty. Cas was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The search begins
> 
> More will be added to this chapter.
> 
> *Chapter updated...I did this in parts because I'm impatient, but too OCD to make the texts a stand-alone chapter...#ImAGrownAssMan #IDoWhatIWant*

* * *

 

Convo without art for screen readers 

_Group Message: Sammy, Eileen, Crowley, Rowena_

Dean: Everybody get to the bunker ASAP. Crowley, bring holy oil.

Sammy: Anybody hurt?

Dean: I'll explain later. Just get here.

Eileen: Sam's driving. ETA 1hr 20min

Crowley: Is this a legitimate emergency or is it a Winchester emergency?

Dean: Legit. I'll kiss ass and make jokes later. FFS just get here and bring holy oil. I know you have some.

Rowena: I noticed Feathers isn't included in the group. Trouble in paradise? 

Dean: I'LL EXPLAIN LATER JUST FUCKING GET HERE ASAP. HALF OF YOU CAN TELEPORT SO FUCKING DO IT.

_New Message Thread with just Sam and Dean_

Sammy: Holy oil???

Sammy: What did you do? Where's Cas?

Dean: SO MUCH WHEN SO WRONG SO FAST I DON'T EVEN KNOW HE WON'T ANSWER PRAYERS OR CALLS

DEAN: AND DON'T TEXT AND DRIVE

Sammy: Eileen switched so I could text you. Why aren't you answering your phone? I'm trying to call. 

Dean: Keeping the line open for Cas. Stop calling.

Sammy: What happened?

Dean: A lot. IDK where to start. He got his memory back and flipped the fuck out and left. 

Sammy: How'd he get his memory back? 

Dean: Fucking magic. IDK. It just happened.

Sammy: Why'd he freak out? Did he say anything?

Dean: It's a long story. One minute things were great then bam, memory bitchslap and he took the fuck off. 

Sammy: That's not exactly out of character for him. How do you know he was freaked out?

Dean: He had that look he gets...and he said some stuff. Wicked witch and her flying monkey are here. G2G.

Dean: This is a secret BTW. Don't let Cas know we're coming for him. 

Sammy: Figured. We'll be there soon.

_End text convo_

* * *

 

Dean kept his phone in his hand while Crowley and Rowena began their interrogation. It was of course, too much to hope this would be a quick and painless rescue. 

Crowley knelt on the floor of the dungeon across from Dean. They began drawing the sigils needed to summon Cas and trap him. The dungeon was big, open and easy to fortify if Cas tried to buzz off again. 

“So you found him on the side of the road?” asked Rowena. She hugged the jar of holy oil against her chest. “And he had a sad little sign around his neck with nary and indication of what happened to him?” 

“Pretty much,” answered Dean.

“And then you took him home?” 

“Yeah.” 

Across from him, Crowley snickered. 

“And he slowly got bits of himself back but not everything?” asked Rowena.

“Yes,” said Dean, eyeing the demon across from him. 

“Then suddenly he remembered everything?” she asked. 

“Yes,” answered Dean. 

Crowley snorted and actually seemed to be choking.

“It’s not funny, dickbag,” snapped Dean. “Cas was fucked up and now he’s—I don’t know what he is now, but it’s not good.” 

Crowley shot a sideways glance at his mother. “Can I tell him? It was your spell, but my idea so I think I should get to tell him.” 

Dean dropped the brush he’d been using to paint sigils. “You motherfucker. You did this to him.” 

“Technically she did.” Crowley nodded to Rowena. “But before you transform into the incredible hulk, there’s more you should know.” He was grinning ear to ear. 

“There’s no need to prolong his suffering, Fergus,” said Rowena. She gave Dean a look that was more sneer than smile. “The good news is that your wee winged boyfriend is back to his old self.” 

Crowley snorted again. “The better news is that I know how you broke the spell.” 

“I broke it?” asked Dean. “How? What the fuck did I do?” 

“If mother dear sealed the spell correctly,” answered Crowley, “then you must have professed your undying, but oh-so-obvious love for him, and,” he choked back another laugh, “it must have been very convincing.” 

Dean threw his brush at Crowley then rushed across the room to Rowena, bowie knife already in hand. “Bitch,” he growled. He meant to back her into a corner and stab her until Sam showed up, she died or his arm got tired, but Rowena did not back down. 

“Love potions are not usually my specialty, dear,” she said. “I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” 

“Bullshit,” spat Dean. He pointed the knife at her chest.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” she said. “I owed a very powerful man a favor.”

“Who?” demanded Dean.

“God,” answered Rowena.

Something in him snapped. Dean reared back, prepared to kill the witch once and for all, but as soon as he pulled the knife back, he froze.

“No,” said Crowley, sounded somewhat bored. “As much as it pains me to stop you, you can’t stab my mother today.” 

“Unfreeze me,” shouted Dean.

Crowley flicked his wrist and the bowie knife flew across the room. It was quickly replaced with Dean’s paintbrush. “Count to ten, then I’ll let you get back to arts and crafts,” said Crowley. 

“Why did you put a spell on Cas?” growled Dean. 

“Mother owed Chuck almighty a favor,” answered Crowley. 

“Bullshit.” 

“I’m afraid it’s true,” answered Rowena. “I met a man in Brazil many years ago. I was in a wee bit of a pickle and a kind man helped me on the condition that one day, I had to help him.” 

“What the fuck,” muttered Dean. 

“Of course,” she continued, “had I known that kind, strapping young lad was God, I probably would have refused.” 

“But you didn’t and here we are,” said Crowley. He snapped his fingers and released Dean. 

The hunter stumbled. “You’re not kidding, are you?” 

Rowena bit her lip, seeming to be only marginally regretful. 

“How’d you get roped into this?” asked Dean.

Crowley huffed and glared at the witch. “I’m a good son,” he said. 

“Why would Chuck want you to erase Cas’ memory?” asked Dean. 

“Oh, poor lad,” said Rowena. “Not operating at full capacity today, are we?” She moved to the edge of the circled Crowley had painted on the floor. “Charles wanted me to nudge you and Feathers in the right direction. He allowed me to take some creative liberties.” 

Dean threw his paintbrush again. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted. 

Crowley slammed the brush back into Dean’s hand with a little more force this time.

“It worked, didn’t it?” snapped Rowena.

“No,” said Dean. He pointed to the sigil in the middle of the room. “Obviously it didn’t work.” 

Both Crowley and Rowena stopped what they were doing and exchanged a glance and muttered a simultaneous little “oh.”

Rowena bit her lip. “We’ve always assumed the feelings were mutual,” she said, “even Charles. Though you’d expect him to be a wee bit better at reading people.” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. As his rage ebbed, embarrassment crept in to replace it. They cursed Cas to make him more vulnerable—to make them more vulnerable. The only way to break the curse was for Dean to tell Cas he loved him, and apparently mean it. The curse was broken. Obviously Dean said it. But Cas was gone and now Dean was alone.

He huffed and tried to comfort himself by thinking of a more public or humiliating rejection. Nothing came to mind. 

The dungeon door scrapped open. Sam and Eileen entered with several duffle bags. 

“You guys are early,” said Dean. 

“She drives faster than you do,” said Sam. 

Eileen dropped her bags and went over to inspect the sigil. She signed something to Sam, but it was Rowena who answered. 

“We’ll have enough oil,” said the witch, signing and speaking at the same time. “There are two more jars in the corner.” 

Eileen shrugged at Sam. “So much for our secret language,” she said.

“Witches,” muttered Dean. 

“So how much does everybody know?” asked Sam. 

“These assholes cursed Cas,” said Dean, pointing his brush between the demon and the witch. “They wiped his memory.”

“Then prince charming broke the curse,” said Crowley, nodding to Dean.

“Hush Fergus,” said Rowena.

“You broke it?” asked Sam. “How?”

“He profe—” Crowley suddenly fell silent. His mouth was still moving but no sound came out. Once he realized it, he glared at his mother.

“I warned you,” she said sweetly.

“Dude, c’mon,” said Sam, “they get to know how you broke it, but we don’t?” 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He had both feet firmly planted on a humiliation landmine. He had to step off of it eventually.

Rowena apparently reached her empathy quota for the day when she silenced Crowley. She pursed her lips and watched, making no move to help.

Dean found a spot on the wall just over Sam’s shoulder and stared at it. He huffed. “I told him how I felt,” he said. 

Sam mercifully understood what that meant. “You told him—you mean like, the truth? The whole truth?” He glanced around the room. 

“It was a bullshit Disney princess curse,” snapped Dean. “Yeah, the whole truth. I said ‘I love you’ and got all sappy and broke the stupid spell and the whole world knows _and—_ the icing on top of this whole fuck-you-cake—it was Chuck’s idea.”

Sam glanced around the room again. He signed quickly to Eileen, who gasped.

“But if you told him how you felt,” began Eileen, “why did he leave?”

Crowley winced and Rowena turned her attention back to the sigil. 

“I don’t know,” answered Dean. “I think it was a lot for him to take in. He seemed upset and he kept apologizing to me—said I was under his spell or something. Point is, he’s not in a good place and we need to get back.”

“Angels tend to be very emotional during mating season,” said Rowena. “Especially if they’re in a vessel and especially if they’ve chosen a human mate.” She dripped the last bit of oil on the floor. “I wouldn’t take it as a rejection just yet.”

“Mating season?” Sam frowned. “I didn’t know angels had matin—wait. Did you—are you—did you and Cas—?” His little brother could not find the end of his sentence.

“I thought his angel hormones or celestial whatever would help the spell,” said Rowena. “Might have just made things worse. Though you two are already bonded, or so I assumed; what with your little tryst in Hell. Perhaps I was wrong.” 

Crowley waved his arms.

Rowena flicked her wrist at him. “You may speak now,” she said.

“We’re ready,” said Crowley. “Even Lucifer would have a hard time breaking out of this."

“Excellent,” she said. She clapped her hands and the outer ring of the sigil erupted into flames. She pushed Dean to the edge of the fire. “Call him.”

Dean chewed on his lower lip. The remaining _why’s_ and _how’s_ of the past few days would have to wait. It was time to bring his angel home. He stepped as close to the fire as he could. “Cas,” he called. 

The room erupted in blue light and the flames jumped. There was a heavy thud, and Cas appeared in the center of the ring of fire.

Dean never got the chance to be relieved that it worked. He took one look at the angel and leapt through the flames, catching his friend before he fell to the ground. 

Cas’ eyes were cloudy. His clothes were drenched in blood and he was soaking wet. A few faint wisps of grace snaked out from the corners of his mouth and from beneath the cuffs of his coat. He slowly took in the fire around him. He blinked heavily, then looked up, a frown pulling at the edge of his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he said.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thing one: If you missed the update, there's new crap after the texts in chapter 7
> 
> Thing two: Sorry for all the dark shit...sometimes writing dark makes me feel lighter. Thanks for reading
> 
> Thing three: This fic should have more suicide warnings than a Cymbalta prescription...heads up

Cas licked his lips and slowly turned his head. He squinted, seeming to take in the other figures beyond the flames. He inhaled and his chest stuttered as his breath deepened. 

Dean laid Cas’ crumpled body on the floor, cursing himself for picking the dungeon to construct the sigil. He pulled a knife from his back pocket and started cutting away Cas’ clothes. He saw the marks on his wrists first; long, deep and slowly bleeding grace. 

Dean didn’t let himself stop. He yanked off shoes, socks and cut away everything until Cas was down to his boxers. People were shouting—probably Sam. Dean used the cloth from Cas’ shirt to bind his wrists. The wounds were too clean and blood had already crusted along the edges of his arms. Pink muscle and pale veins peaked out from beneath his skin. Grace was the only thing keeping Cas alive.

He heard himself scream for everyone to leave. He heard several protests. He saw Cas watching him, mouth open but not speaking. He heard the door to the dungeon slam shut. The silhouettes beyond the flames disappeared. They were alone. Dean couldn’t find the words to ask why, though he desperately needed an answer. 

Cas just kept watching him. 

Dean choked back whatever emotion was attempting to claw its way out of his throat. He needed to think and stay focused. “Can you hear me?” he asked. “Are you with me?” He scooped the angel into his arms, careful to support his head. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

Cas squinted and glanced to the door. 

“We’re alone,” said Dean.

Cas made a movement that might have been a nod. “I wanted to watch the sunset again,” he said.

Dean brushed sweat-dampened hair away from Cas’ forehead. He had to ask. He already knew the answer but he had to ask. “Did you,” he began slowly, “did you do this to yourself?” 

“Yes,” answered Cas. His voice was soft, raspy and weak. “I should have done it quickly. This was a mistake.”

Dean’s vision was blurry. His cheeks were wet but he didn’t remember crying.

_Fuck it._

“Why?” he asked.

Cas closed his eyes, frowning at nothing. “The only way to break the bond is for one of us to die,” he answered.

“What?” 

“You are tied to me,” said Cas. “Forever. You, as a human, cannot comprehend what that means but I—” He paused to catch his breath. “I could not do that to you. I fought it for so many years—was so careful. I’m sorry.” 

“We’re already bonded,” said Dean. “We bonded in Hell, probably. I mean, I’m not an expert but I feel like that’s probably true.” 

“You’re still spellbound,” muttered Cas. Another tendril of grace escaped his lips.

“I’m not spellbound, you idiot,” said Dean. “I love you. I’ve loved you for a long fucking time. This is not news to me or anyone who knows us.” He pulled Cas into his chest, vaguely aware that they were now rocking back and forth. “I love you,” he said again. “Please tell me you understand that.”

Cas suddenly raised a hand and gripped the collar of Dean’s shirt. “Stop it,” he said. “When I die, the spell will break and you will come back to yourself.” 

“Like hell I will. When you die, I’m just going to have to wander through Heaven, Purgatory and/or Hell until I find you,” said Dean. “Then, once I get you back, we’re going to have to have this talk again. Rowena’s the reason for the spell. She’s the one—” 

Cas shook his head. “I know. I remember that part. It’s not her fault you love me. That’s my fault.”

“Ok,” snapped Dean. “Just shut up. We’ll figure that out later. Heal yourself or tell me how to heal you, I’ll get us out of the holy fire and I’ll explain everything.” 

Cas turned away from Dean as much as he could. “You have to let me go,” he said.

Dean cupped Cas’ cheek and forced him to make eye contact again. “I love you, you son of a bitch. If you die on me, I swear to Chuck, Zeus, Amara, Lucifer, Crowley and anyone else listening that I will spend the rest of eternity hunting your ass down.” 

Cas sighed. “Once I’m dead you won’t feel that way anymore, but it makes sense you’d think that now.” He took another shaky breath. “This is why I wanted to die alone. You are suffering from the illusion of affection. You should leave. You will feel better soon.”

“You can’t heal yourself, can you,” said Dean. It wasn’t a question. He knew the answer. Cas wasn’t refusing to heal; he couldn't heal. He’d let himself get too weak to come back. He’d let himself slip beyond the point of rescue and Dean was too fucking late. 

Dean’s breath came in quick, heaving gasps. He was too late. “Why?” he asked. “You’re not bad, Cas. We’ve done a lot of shit to each other and we always bounce back. Why now? Why this? What the fuck pushed you over the edge?”

_Why didn’t I see it coming?_

“I’ve had this planned for a while,” he answered quietly. “Rowena cast her spell the day I planned to die. It was an—” he stopped to breathe again, “an unfortunate setback.” His eyes fluttered. “After everything I’ve done. I saw Heaven. What happened there is my fault. I lost control.” 

His body relaxed in Dean’s arms and the hunter shook him slightly. “Stay with me.” Dean was only half listening to the angel. He was busy making a list; figuring out which steps to take to make things right. Step one, keep Cas alive. Step two, heal Cas. Step three, quarantine Cas until it was safe to let him out again. Step four, make sure this never happened again.

“I’ve held so much power,” muttered Cas. “You can’t begin to understand. The things I did—I swore I’d never use my power against you or your brother, but I did. Dean, I’m so sorry. Please know that.”

Dean took Cas’ hand in his and placed it over his chest. He had the beginning of an idea, but no real way to implement it. He still needed Cas to cooperate. “You love me,” said Dean, “right? I know you do." 

Cas didn’t answer.

“Fine,” said Dean. “I’ll do this alone. I don’t care.” He adjusted Cas’ body against his own. “I love you. You’re my friend, my family, my fucking soul mate and I love you.”

Cas’ eyes fluttered again. Dean shook him.

“Stay with me or we both die,” he shouted. 

Cas perked up a bit, struggling to raise his head. The escaping grace had lost most of its blue color. It was a pale, ghostly gray and the wisps were becoming thinner. 

“That’s right,” said Dean. "That got your attention."  

_All in, Winchester. Nothing to lose now._

Dean leaned forward and retrieved the knife he’d used cut Cas’ clothes away. “You go, I go.”

Cas frowned, eyes struggling to follow Dean’s movements. 

Dean shifted Cas’ head to rest against his shoulder. He held the knife in his teeth and rolled up his sleeve. He made sure the angel was still paying attention when he took the knife back into his hand.

_One, two, three—nut up bitch, we’ve been through worse shit than this. ­_

He drove the knife straight down into what he hoped was some kind of significant artery near his wrist and shakily pulled the blade upwards toward himself. 

“No,” shouted Cas. He scrambled, too weak, and tried to take the knife away. “Sam,” he called. His voice was small and too quiet to penetrate the dungeon doors.

Dean pulled the blade away from his bleeding arm. How anyone ever managed to do this to both arms was a mystery for another day. Maybe he’d gone in too deep. 

He shook his head and forced himself to look away from the scarlet flood now spreading at his side. “We’re going down together,” said Dean. “Wouldn’t be a good love story if we didn’t.”

He’d died before, but this method was certainly the slowest. His arm didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected. He felt weak more than anything else. 

“But,” continued Dean, “I know you can save us.” 

Cas was already struggling to push himself away and find something to stop the bleeding. He didn’t get very far. Dean was stronger than him at this point and still had one good arm. 

He threw the knife beyond the edge of the ring of fire and pulled Cas back into him. He took Cas’ hand and held it once again against his chest. “My soul,” he said. “Touch it. Power up and heal us both.” It was a gamble. Cas touched Bobby’s soul years ago and got a power boost. It was a long shot, but it was the only one they had.

Panting, Cas tried to pull his hand away. “That could kill you. Please, call your brother. He can help you. Let me go.” 

“Save us,” said Dean. “I’m fine sitting here dying with you. Hell, I might even enjoy it. I’m so fucking tired—” 

“Sam,” whimpered Cas. “Dean needs help.”

“He can’t hear you,” said Dean, internally hoping that was true. If Sam walked in he’d blow Dean’s last bargaining chip. The room started to spin. The firelight did nothing to improve his focus. “Save us,” said Dean. He blinked hard. “Do your soul thing, heal us, I’ll put out this stupid fucking fire and we’ll negotiate from there.”

Cas was somewhere between shaking and convulsing. Dean wasn’t sure if it was due to rage or death. Either way he felt Cas’ hand flatten against his chest.

Blinding pain obscured whatever happened next. It was unlike anything he’d felt before; unlike Hell, Purgatory, Cain, Amara, Hell hounds and a million other nasty things existence had thrown at him over the years. 

His soul was on fire. He was melting, burning alive from the inside out. He was being stabbed, beaten, bitten, scratched, torched over every inch of his body. Then it was over. The pain was gone.

Dean swayed as a glowing Castiel hovered over his body. When Cas was finished, even the bloodstain was gone from the floor. Cas was all right—or at least a several steps removed from the brink of death.

Dean let out a deep breath. “Good to know you can heal inside of a holy fire ring.”

Cas gave him a harsh glare. “You didn’t know that beforehand?”

Dean grinned and wrapped a hand around the back of Cas’ neck, pulling him in to a kiss. When he opened his eyes, he saw Cas’ wounds glow a vibrant blue as they began to heal. He held the angel tighter. “I fucking love you, Cas.”

Instead of answering, Cas screamed. “Sam!”

The dungeon doors screeched open and the cavalry of Hell and Earth rushed in. Sam and Eileen stepped to the edge of the holy fire. Rowena and Crowley kept their distance. 

“Dean tried to kill himself,” said Cas. “Let us out.” 

Dean’s eyes widened and he shook his head firmly behind Cas’ back. 

Sam looked between the two of them. “But, you’re both ok now?” he asked slowly. 

“Yes,” answered Dean. “He’s still a little one-flew-over-the-cuckoo’s-nest, but nobody's dying.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Dean bit his lip.

Eileen turned to Rowena. “Do you have more oil?” she asked, “or another way to keep Cas confined?”

Rowena crossed her arms over her chest. “Depends. Why?”

“We should ward Dean’s room,” she said. “Then we can lock them both inside.”

“Yes,” said Dean. "Do that."

Cas tried to back away, but Dean wouldn’t let go. They ended up half-crawling toward the edge of the circle.

“Lovely,” said Crowley. “And in the meantime?”

Dean struggled to pull Cas back to the center of the ring. “We’ll wait here,” he said. 

Cas finally shoved Dean away, but he didn’t retreat. He hugged his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them.

Dean decided that was their cue. “Everybody back out,” he said. “Crowley, if you even think about weaseling your way out—” 

“Already threatened him,” said Sam. “And Rowena. Take care of Cas. Eileen and I can handle the rest.”

The door screeched closed again and Dean finally let out an honest-to-god sigh of relief. 

He settled next to Cas on the cold dungeon floor and nudged him with his shoulder. When the angel didn’t look up, Dean took Cas’ hand in his own and entwined their fingers. He didn’t push Cas for more answers. He would save the interrogation for the safe, quiet darkness of their bedroom.

It was half an hour before Cas relaxed enough to lean against Dean. 

_Two steps down. Two more to go._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roses are red.  
> Violets are blue.  
> Feelings are hard.  
> *mic drop*

It took the cavalry just over two hours to ward Dean’s room, most of the hallway, the route to the dungeon, and Dean’s bathroom.

Sam and Eileen painted sigils on the walls, floors and ceilings. Crowley had been in charge of testing, breaking, and then fixing the invisible barricades.

Rowena had spread a nasty, greasy concoction around the bunker which outlined the edges of Cas’ magic-enforced prison. She claimed it was made with holy oil. It looked like it was made with sludge she scrapped up from the bottom of a drainage ditch. 

Cas was disturbingly blasé about the whole ordeal. He sat quietly until it was time to move. When they put out the fire, Dean led Cas away from the dungeon and to their new room. He didn’t try to run. He made no sound of protest. He shook his head when Sam asked if he needed anything. He didn’t move when Dean left him sitting on the edge of the bed to talk to the others gathered around the door. 

Dean stood sideways so he could watch Cas out of his peripheral while he thanked everyone and got a crash course in how the sigils worked. Crowley and Rowena stayed only as long as absolutely necessary then made their respectively flamboyant exit 

Eileen glanced past Dean, sighed, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said. She kissed Sam quickly on the cheek, then disappeared down the hall. 

Dean smirked after her. “She knows exactly where your room is, doesn’t she,” he said. 

Sam blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you.” 

“Cursed-Cas beat you to it,” said Dean. “He found her clothes while he was watching over us.” 

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “He watched over us while he was cursed?” He looked past Dean, but Cas was still staring at the floor. “We’ve got to fix him.” 

“We will,” said Dean. He bit his lip as another thought occurred to him. “Um,” he began, “if you get a chance, can you find out what exactly it means to be bonded to an angel? And maybe find out what the hell happens to them during their um—you know—their mating season?” 

Sam sighed. “I already did and I think Rowena was right. I think you and Cas have been bonded for a long time.” 

Dean nodded and pushed himself away from the door. “Good,” he said. “Ok, good talk.”

Sam grabbed him and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Can you handle that? Are you going to be weird? Because so help me, if we just went through all of this to save him and you get how you get I will feed you to a werewolf.” 

Dean pushed him off. “I will not _get how I get_ , asshat. I just don’t want to talk about mating season with my baby brother, but hey, if you’re curious I’ve got plenty of details.” 

Sam backed away, hands up in surrender. “Nope. Just checking.” 

“Good.” Dean crossed his arms and looked back at Cas. The bunker could have exploded for all the angel seemed to care. Dean cleared his throat. “So what’s the bond thing then?” 

Sam shrugged. “It’s just how you guys normally are. Mates seek each other out for energy, comfort, in times of stress, need, love, joy, pain. I mean, now that I think about it, it explains why you two are always staring. If you were an angel, you’d probably be able to hear his thoughts. Alternatively, you wouldn’t have to pray for him to hear yours.” He sighed. “I think it just means you love each other.”

“So I’m not going to sprout wings or something cool? I don’t get angel powers or something?”

“Cas _is_ your angel power.”

Dean huffed. “Sap.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam looked into the room again. “Good night, Cas,” he said. 

The angel didn’t answer. 

Sam frowned.

“Go to bed,” said Dean. “I’ve got this.” He waited until Sam was gone before shutting the door. The room was dimly lit by a lamp on his bedside table. His weapons were gone. The walls were covered in signs he didn’t recognize. Crowley had been thoughtful enough to install a mini-fridge. Sam, unfortunately, was the one who stocked it. But it meant they didn’t need to leave the room very often. Dean could stay there for as long as it took to put Cas back together.

He took a deep breath as he crossed the room. He sat on the edge of the bed beside the angel. “Light on or off?” he asked.

“Whichever you prefer,” answered Cas.

“You pick. I’m going to start interrogating, so you should get comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“Would you at least look at me?”

Cas closed his eyes. “Your soul is very strong. I don’t need to see you to know you’re here.” 

“That’s good for you, but I need eye contact,” said Dean. “I need to see if you’re listening or if you’re tuning me out.”

Cas lifted his head slowly and turned to face Dean. When he opened his eyes, his lashes were damp and clung together. His arms trembled as he clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees. He was wearing a pair of Dean’s sweatpants and a worn-out t-shirt. He looked small and human.

Dean stared back at him. He saw it now—the chink in Cas’ armor. The angel was looking at Dean the way Dean looked at him the night he threw the liquor bottle. Cas was looking at him like Dean was a reflection of every sin Cas had ever committed. 

“I wish you could see you the way I see you,” said Dean. 

“I wish you could see me the way I see me,” said Cas. He scowled and his eyes glistened with tears, but he didn’t look away.

“I do,” said Dean. “I see your worst. You’re not hiding anything from me.”

“If you see it then how can you love me?” 

“Because I see your best too, you idiot,” said Dean. “And you’re a lot more good than bad. You see my worst, don’t you?” 

“We’re not the same,” said Cas. “You’re righteous and strong.”

“But I’m pretty fucked up too,” said Dean. 

Cas chewed on his lower lip and broke their gaze for just a second. He was shaking.

“Ok, fuck it,” said Dean. “Lights off. I’m making an executive decision.”

“I thought you said you needed to see my eyes.”

“I did but that was dumb.” Dean pulled back the covers. “I thought we’d do that mind-meld-angel-in-heat thing again, but I guess suicide puts a damper on that.” He patted a spot on the bed. 

Cas shook his head.

"Is that a no because you don't want to lay down or a no because you're punishing yourself?" asked Dean.

Cas bit his lip.

"You don't think you even deserve to be comfortable?" 

"We both know I don't." 

Dean took a deep breath. “I have a lot of feelings about that, and if I could remember all the shit you said to me back when I said I didn’t deserve good things, I’d be reciting it right now, but I was in a shitty mood and I don’t remember, and fuck.” He ran a hand over his face and choked down a scream. “Just lay down, please.”

Cas crawled across the bed and lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. 

Dean switched off the lamp and crawled next to Cas. He pulled the covers up over both of them, a nagging little voice telling him to be softer. He wiggled an arm under Cas’ head and pulled the angel into him. He found Cas’ cheeks with his other hand and brushed his tears away.

“You told me,” began Dean, “a long time ago, that you were afraid you’d kill yourself if you saw had become of Heaven. I let it go. I let the monster du jour take priority. I let you go. That was a big red flag and I ignored the fuck out of it.” 

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” muttered Cas.

“I'm glad you told me. I should have handled it better. I should have told you that destruction is proportional and sometimes chaos is necessary. You’ve done a lot of damage for angel. You did more damage as a god. I’ve done a lot of damage for a human—hell, if we’re talking body count, remember Sam and I are basically professional serial killers. I’ve killed friends. I’ve let family die. I’ve murdered strangers because I thought they were monsters.”

“We are not the same. You are as my father intended. I am almost certain I was a mistake.” 

Dean tilted his head so his forehead rested against Cas’. Comparing scars wasn’t working. “Fine,” said Dean. “You’re terrible.” He felt Cas’ breath hitch like he’d been waiting for Dean to finally say the words. “You’re bad. You’ve done bad. You're beat, bent, broken and you can’t undo it and it sucks but that’s how it is.” He tightened his hold on the angel. “But I still love you. I’ve seen you through every nasty, god-forsaken shit-show life could throw at us and I still love you. I’ve seen you at your worst and at your best, and before you sass back at me, yes, you do have a best. I love you and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Cas huffed.

"I can't go back to life without you," said Dean. "I've imagined it so many times, but I'll never accept it. I don't care how far away you try to go, I will find you. I'm a hunter. It's what I do. I won't lose you." He tried to clear his throat; choke back whatever was clawing at him again, but he failed. The dam broke and the floodwaters rose. He buried his face in Cas’ hair, muttering “I love you” over and over until his voice cracked and all he could do was hold the angel and cry.

At some point Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair. There was soft whooshing sound and the air around them became warmer. The room became darker. 

Dean let his hand drift to Cas’ back and his fingers brushed against feathers. He let his hand follow the outline of bones to the first major joint and exhaled. He’d almost lost Cas again, but now they were safe in his room. Cas remembered. Cas was real, his wings were real, the trauma was real; it was all real and Dean felt it. 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Cas.

Dean curled into him, clinging tighter as Cas covered them with his wings. “You scared the shit out of me today,” he said, still gasping as he tried to regain control of his emotions. “I know I can’t fix this in one night, or two nights, but I swear; if I could take on your pain so you never felt this way again, I’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”

“I know,” said Cas. “You illustrated that point quite vividly when you cut your arm open.”

“I’m sorry I let things get this bad.” 

“This isn’t your fault,” said Cas. “My problems are my own.” 

“Bullshit,” said Dean. “We’re family. Your problems are mine and mine are yours. Same goes for Sammy, and if Eileen makes it, her problems will be ours too. We’ll be a fucked up bunch of murdering, back-from-the-dead assholes and the world can just fucking deal.” 

Cas shook. He made a sound that could have been a laugh.

Dean pulled away and touched his face in the darkness. It felt like Cas was smiling. “You ok?” he asked.

Cas actually laughed. “What were you going to do,” he began, “if I couldn’t heal you while we were surrounded by holy fire.”

Dean relaxed back into the bed. He wasn’t sure where bizarre giggle-fits fell on the suicidal scale, but it was something different. “I didn’t have time to nail down a plan,” said Dean. “You were trying to run out the clock.” 

“I was trying to die.”

Dean let his head fall against Cas. “You almost made it. If I’d been a little slower, you would have made it.”

Cas was still except for the rise and fall of his chest. “I would have missed this.”

“I don’t have a lot to offer, but I can guarantee you more nights like this,” said Dean. “Well, better than this—under different circumstances—you know what I mean.” 

“I was so certain I’d cursed you.”

“Love's an inconvenience, not a curse,” said Dean.

“It made sense at the time.” 

“Probably because you’re used to me being a dickweed and when I suddenly wasn’t you assumed I had to be cursed.” Dean frowned. “Oh. Fuck, I didn’t think of it like that. No wonder you were upset. Am I really that shitty that often?”

“You’re not ‘shitty,’ Dean.”

He trailed his fingers along the bare skin of Cas’ arm and pressed a kiss against his forehead. The words were on the tip of his tongue again. He’d said them a thousand times tonight, and he say them a thousand more if that’s what it took to heal his angel.

“I love you, Cas.” 

“I love you too, Dean.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #LesMis #BecauseICanThatsWhy 
> 
> Do you hear the fandom squee?  
> Squeeing the squee from angry lips?  
> It is the squeeing of a fandom  
> That will not give up their ships!  
> When the breaking of your heart  
> Comes with a swift and brutal kick  
> There is a life about to start  
> When we write a fic!

 

** Text message convo without art for screen readers  **

_Message Thread with just Sam and Dean_

Dean: Hey where are you guys right now?

Sam: Kitchen. Why?

Dean: Good. Gonna let Cas leave the room. See if I can get him to take a shower. He’s not up to full power yet. Thought it might help him feel better.

Sam: Why do we need to be in the kitchen for you guys to do that?

Dean: I don’t think he wants to see people yet. Just avoid my end of the bunker for a while. We’re working up to socializing.

Sam: Baby steps?

Dean: Baby steps.

Sam: How’s he doing otherwise?

Dean: 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. But progress is progress. He seems better.

Dean: Told him I was texting you. He says hi and he’ll talk to you soon. He wants to apologize to you and Eileen.

Sam: He doesn’t need to apologize. Tell him we understand and we’ll be here when he’s ready – no judgment, no questions, no rush.

Dean: He’s reading over my shoulder, FYI. He says thank you. Coming out now. I’ll let you know when we’re back in quarantine.

Sam: Ha. Coming out…

Dean: God dammit.

Sam: YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I’VE BEEN WAITING TO MAKE THAT JOKE.

Dean: You’re pathetic.

Sam: I’m so happy.

Dean: Bitch.

Sam: Jerk.

End of texts

* * *

Cas trailed after Dean down the hall and to the bathroom. His wings were still visible. Dean wasn’t sure if that meant Cas felt weaker or stronger. Maybe it meant nothing. 

He shut the door behind them and locked it. If Cas tried to bolt, he’d have to stop and fidget with the lock first and that would buy Dean some time. 

“Are you going to stay?” asked Cas. 

Dean felt his cheeks burn. “I, uh, yeah. But I guess I didn’t really think about it. I thought you might need help with your wings. If that’s weird for you though, I can just sit in the door with my back turned.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t really want to leave you alone though.”

A light pink blush crept across Cas’ face. “You can stay,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah?” Dean tried not to sound over-eager. 

“And you can help, if you want.” 

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, I wanna help. I kinda had a plan.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I was kind of going for a romantic gesture here—it’s a human thing, I guess. I don’t want to push you though. I guess things are different since you’ve got your memory back?” The small room suddenly felt too warm. “I mean, you’ve got context now. It’s not weird for me, don’t get me wrong, this is great for me. I just don’t know where you—un-cursed you—stands on the whole thing.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “We did do the whole ‘I love you thing’ and we’re bonded so I guess that’s a big step. And we’ve already—you know.” 

Dean’s mouth was dry. He was making it worse. Cas was staring at him, head cocked to the side, brow furrowed. 

“I could use some help here,” said Dean. “I’m babbling.” 

Cas frowned. “It does feel different. I think you’re right about context. I was more forward before. I think it’s easier for us when one of us is uninhibited.” 

“That’s me, right? My turn to be the uninhibited one?” 

Cas looked down at his feet. “If you wouldn’t mind. I think it would be easier for me.” 

 _All in mother fucker._  

Dean took a deep breath and crossed the room quickly. There was no reason in the world for this to feel strange or new, nonetheless the boundary between them had been resurrected. Cas tore it down the first time. Now it was on Dean. 

He tilted Cas’ chin up and kissed him. Cas tensed, then completely relaxed, his body surging forward against Dean. He cocooned them again in his wings. They pulled apart, noses brushing together, foreheads resting against each other, breathing in the other’s air. 

“Thank you,” whispered Cas. “I’m sorry. My mind was thinking conflicting thoughts.” 

Dean kissed him again, softly. “Are you still having conflicting thoughts?” 

“Yes,” answered Cas, “but the bad side is not as loud.” 

Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’ waist, brushing against feathers. “What’s the bad side saying?” 

Cas took a moment to compose himself. “I was afraid—am afraid—that you will do anything I ask out of fear for my safety—that I’ve manipulated you into compliance.” 

Dean chest felt tight, and cold. 

 _He’s healing. It’s normal for him to still think like that. He’s not going to get put back together in a day._  

He wrapped both arms around Cas and trailed a line of kisses down his neck. “What is the other side thinking?” he asked, breathing the question into Cas’ skin. 

Cas was responding to the touches, finally embracing Dean and nuzzling into his cheek. “I was thinking that I like the way you look at my wings,” he whispered. “That seems real. You seem to enjoy them and that makes me happy.” 

“I love your wings,” said Dean. He ran his fingers through the nearest cluster of feathers. “When you were standing on the side of the road in the sun; that was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I should have told you, but I was worried about you and Sam.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’ve got to start telling you the good stuff. I only focus on the bad.” 

“We usually don’t have time for good stuff,” said Cas. 

“We’ll make time,” said Dean. “New rule. We make time for good stuff. I’ve pushed us all too hard for too long. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” 

“My pain is not your responsibility,” said Cas. “I feel the way I do because of my own actions, not yours.” 

“I get that, but we should still be able to talk to each other. I’m pretty sure we’re creation’s most qualified defenders. If we have a bad day, Heaven, Hell and everybody in between has a bad day. We’ve got to take care of ourselves. If we need to tap out and lay low for a while, then we have to do it.” He felt Cas smirk against his shoulder. 

“It makes sense when you say it like that.” 

“And that’s why we have to talk to each other,” said Dean. “When one person in the family can’t make sense of something, someone else might.” 

Cas sighed. “Yeah,” he said. 

Dean nudged him back toward the shower. “Let me get the water temperature right then we can get in.” 

Cas pulled back his wings and Dean turned on the shower. They were both wearing sleep clothes. 

 _Uninhibited. You’re uninhibited._  

Dean pulled his t-shirt over his head quickly, before some new level of awkwardness could creep in again. He stripped out of his sweatpants and stood naked. Hyper-aware of the angel watching him, Dean stepped into the shower. He waited. 

Cas stared. 

“You know I’m not just for display, right?” quipped Dean. 

Cas blinked. “My apologies. You are stunning. I was distracted.” 

Dean felt his face burn and knew he was blushing. 

Cas stripped quickly. When his wings manifested last night, the back of his shirt ripped. Instead of pulling it over his head, he simply tugged on it and it fell from his body. Once he was naked, he joined Dean under the water. 

Dean grinned and slipped his arms around Cas’ waist. “This is ok, right?” he asked. 

The corner of Cas’ lip twitched upwards. “Yes.” 

Dean leaned in and kissed him again. “This is surreal,” he mumbled. 

“It is,” said Cas. He ran his fingertips over Dean’s cheek. “It’s strange; being allowed to touch you like this.” 

“I’m a fucking idiot for waiting this this long.” 

“I could have made a move sooner,” said Cas. “I think we have similar insecurities and that forced us to maintain distance.” 

“I don’t ever want to go back to the way we were before. I like this.” 

“I’m not sure that’s realistic,” said Cas. “All couples fight. I’m sure we will fight eventually—though presumably we will come back to each other. We seem to have a habit of doing that.” 

Dean snorted. 

“What?” 

“Us,” said Dean. “We’re a couple. We’re all angel-married and shit. I feel like we should register somewhere.” 

“Register for what?” 

“It’s a human thing. It’s how engaged people get presents.” 

“Dean, I think the time-span of our bonded time has exceeded the length of a typical human engagement. It would be strange to suddenly register for gifts.” 

“It was a joke. What would we register for anyway? More guns? Salt? Silver?” He paused. “Actually the silver thing isn’t weird. I think people ask for silver stuff.” 

“But probably not in a projectile or blade form.” 

“True.” Dean nudged Cas’ shoulder. “Turn around so I can work on your wings.” 

“I can clean them with grace.”

“It’s a gesture. Just go with it.” 

Cas sighed, but turned around. He inhaled sharply when Dean’s fingers crept beneath the feathers. His wings ruffled, the quivered slightly when Dean dug into the long, tight muscles. 

Dean worked his way across the back of Cas’ wings, taking careful note of which spots made the angel gasp and brace himself against the tile wall. 

When Dean was finished with the back, he pulled Cas into his arms and peppered his neck and shoulders with soft kisses. “Other side,” said Dean.

Cas didn’t protest. He leaned heavily against Dean as he turned. His eyes were half closed and his wings were still twitching. 

Dean cupped his cheek and kissed him again, tongue sliding gently across the seam of Cas’ lips. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and deepened the kiss. He felt Cas press himself against Dean’s hip, searching for friction. 

“Not done with your wings,” said Dean. 

“Yes you are,” said Cas. He slid a hand between them and grabbed Dean’s erection. 

Dean walked them slowly backwards until they hit the tile wall. He took Cas in his hand and moved his mouth to nibble at the angel’s neck. 

Cas moaned softly and leaned his head against the wall. His wings shook. Dean resisted the urge to press into the muscles where wings met shoulder blades. He wasn’t ready to undo Cas so quickly. 

They rocked into one another slowly, changing then matching rhythms. When Cas was close, he dug his fingers into Dean’s back and let his head fall against Dean’s shoulder. His hips stuttered and the sound he made was enough to send Dean over the edge as well.

Hands moved across pelvises to rest on hips and they held each other—breathless, and silent beneath the water.    


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy valentines day!

Cas had good days and bad days. Yesterday was a good day. When Dean rolled over in the morning, he fully intended to drape an arm over Cas and pull him over to his side of the bed. But instead of falling against Cas, his arm hit the mattress. 

Dean opened his eyes. No Cas. He swayed as he stood, blinking himself awake, the adrenalin now surging through him expedited the process. 

“Cas?” he called. The angel was very clearly not in his room and Dean was pretty sure he didn’t have enough grace to magic himself invisible. 

Dean shoved open his door and followed the outline of the angel barrier down the hall, checking to make sure the lines and sigils were unbroken. He stopped at the edge of the boundary. The barrier had first extended all the way down to the dungeon, but they got Cas settled in Dean’s room, Sam and the others made sure to shorten it. 

The bathroom door was open. Cas wasn’t inside. Dean retraced his steps, checking and rechecking the barricade. He jumped when someone suddenly said his name.

“Hello, Dean.” 

He looked up and saw Cas standing in his pajamas in the doorway to their bedroom.

Dean could breathe again. He took three long steps and pulled the angel into his arms. He knew he was going to need a minute or two before he’d be able to speak again. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” said Cas. He returned the embrace, but he felt unsteady and tense. 

Dean pulled away to examine him.

Cas’ eyes were bloodshot, but not puffy, his wings were gone, the collar of his t-shirt was damp and his hair was in its usual state of disarray, but he wasn’t injured.

Dean still couldn’t find his voice. 

“I should have answered when you called,” said Cas. 

Dean nodded and finally coughed out a few words. “Where were you?” 

“In the chair, by your desk,” answered Cas. “I cloaked myself so you couldn’t see me.” 

 _Should have gone with your gut, Winchester._  

“I didn’t think you were strong enough to do that,” said Dean. 

“I am,” said Cas. He looked down at the floor. “I’d like to go back in the room. You don’t have to, but I’d prefer to stay in there for a bit.” 

“Of course,” said Dean. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

“You’re not hungry?” 

“Got food in the room.”

“Oh.” 

Dean cupped his cheek and tilted Cas’ face up. “You trying to get rid of me or something? Did I make you mad?” 

“No,” he answered. His eyes glistened in the florescent lights. “I’d just like a minute to compose myself.” 

Dean thumbed over Cas’ cheek. “Ok. I’ll brush my teeth and stuff—then I can come back? Is that enough time?”

“Yes.” 

“Ok. Then maybe you can tell me why you’re upset?” 

“Yes.” Cas frowned against Dean’s palm. 

“Ok,” said Dean. He pulled away. “I’ll be back in five.” 

Cas crossed his arms over his chest and watched Dean back away toward the bathroom. The staring contest continued once Dean reached the door. After a second or two, Cas huffed, and retreated back into the bedroom.

Dean broke a record speeding through his morning routine. He knew Cas wasn’t going to talk. Whenever Cas tried to lie, he was either great or terrible; no middle ground. He’d been lying when he agreed to talk and he was absolutely trying to keep Dean away.

A minute and a half later, Dean was standing outside of his room. He’d intended to peer around the corner and watch the angel for the next few minutes. But the door was shut because Cas was a dick and Dean was probably predictable. 

He snorted and decided closing the door meant Cas forfeited his extra time. When he entered the room he found Cas sitting on the chair with his head in his hands. His forearms were intact. There was no blood, no signs of injury. Dean let out another sigh.

“You rushed,” muttered Cas.

“Yeah,” said Dean. “What’s going on?” He leaned against the edge of the desk in front of the angel.

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Ok, let’s start with why you turned invisible,” said Dean.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” He rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. “And I wanted a moment to myself.”

Dean chewed on his lower lip. More privacy wasn’t something he could offer.

Cas looked up at him. “Perhaps you could give me a few more minutes alone?”

Dean winced. “Why?”

“I need to collect my thoughts.” 

“I can help.” 

Cas huffed and shook his head. “I don’t want help.” 

“But—” 

“Not that I don’t appreciate your help, I do,” he said. “But if I cannot process my thoughts on my own then I can never be alone again and that idea is—” He ran a hand over his forehead. He sighed and started again. “I need to be able to come and go freely. I cannot do that if I constantly lean on you for assistance.” 

“It’s only been a day or two,” said Dean, not bothering to clarify that he knew down to the minute how long it had been since he’d walked with Cas from the dungeon to his room.

Cas closed his eyes. “I just need a moment.” 

“Why don’t you go back to bed? Get comfortable and hid under the covers. I’ll look for cases or something over here.” He pointed to the desk. 

“I don’t want to go back to bed.”

“Ok, then sit here and I’ll go over there.”

“You won’t leave?” 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Cas, I—” 

Cas shook his head. “I forfeited my right to privacy. I understand.”

“It’s not that,” said Dean 

_It’s exactly that._

“It’s that you seem upset,” said Dean. “I think we should talk it out.” 

“I have to learn to do this on my own.” 

“I get that,” said Dean. 

“But I’ve forfeited my right to privacy,” finished Cas.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” 

Cas snorted and turned away. 

Part of Dean gave in instantly. Part of him was already thinking of ways to occupy his time while Cas calmed down. Part of him knew Cas probably felt stir-crazy and trapped and wanted to help. The rest of him flashed back to holding Cas in his arms as he watched him die.

Cas disappeared.

“Dammit,” said Dean. “Come back.” He was shouting at the chair without really knowing if Cas was still sitting in it. 

The angel didn’t answer. 

Dean gritted his teeth and walked over to one of the sigils on the wall. He took a sharpie from his pocket and added a mark to the symbol. 

Cas reappeared with a quiet pop. He was still in the chair. He looked at Dean with an expression that was somewhere between surprised and betrayed. 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. 

“That won’t work forever,” said Cas, nodding to the wall. 

“As long as it works for now, I’m happy,” said Dean. 

Cas examined the other symbols around the room. “I thought,” he said slowly, “you’d just painted them incorrectly. Now, I understand they are a threat.”

“I’m not threatening you. Don’t be dramatic.” 

“Each of these sigils will take away some of my power,” continued Cas. “And that one,” he pointed to a large mark on the ceiling, “must be what keeps me from altering them.”

“How do you know you can’t alter them?” 

“I tried this morning.” 

“Dammit, Cas,” said Dean. “Why?” 

“I wanted,” he said slowly, “a moment to myself.”

Dean gripped the sharpie tighter. “I’ve given you my suggestions.”

Cas stood and began walking briskly out of the room. 

Dean hurried to block the door.

“Move,” demanded Cas. 

“No.” 

“We can’t live in your room forever,” snapped Cas. 

“It’s not forever, it’s just for now.” 

“I want a deadline.” 

“When you’re better.” 

“I can’t get better until I have some fucking time alone,” shouted Cas. 

The outburst threw Dean for a second, but he recovered quickly. “No,” he shouted back. “And before you go off about forfeiting your rights, it’s not about that.” 

“Really?” challenged Cas. “It’s not because you don’t trust me? That’s not why your room is weaponless and the walls are oozing magic?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know what you’re going to do,” answered Dean.

“Because you don’t trust me.”

Dean jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t get all indigent about this like I don’t have a right to be a little paranoid. You didn’t see what I saw. You don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love die just because they fucking wanted to.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” said Cas.

“You did, and you chose death and I’m still not sure why and I didn’t see it coming and that scares the shit out of me.”

Cas pursed his lips and glared, but didn’t argue.

“You said you planned to die the day Rowena cursed you. I would never have known.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t see it coming.”

“I told you, years ago, I thought I might kill myself.”

“I know,” said Dean. “And I just let it fucking slide.”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Cas. “I mean I told you. I was honest with you. I didn’t want to, but I told you.”

“But I didn—”

“I will tell you again, if I feel like I want to die.”

That wasn’t enough. That would never be enough. He needed to know what Cas was thinking, where he went, where he wanted to go, what he did, who he saw. 

“Stop shaking your head,” said Cas. 

Dean didn’t realize he was even moving. His chest felt tight. How many other things had Cas told him and he promptly ignored? Did right now count? Did Cas really need to be alone? Was Dean making it worse? He needed backup. He didn’t know the rules for this game. He didn’t have the skills to play. 

“I’ve broken many things,” said Cas. “I hate knowing our trust is one of them.”

“It’s not broken,” said Dean, almost automatically.

“It _is_ broken. Again,” said Cas. “And one of us will probably break it again later. But I broke it this time. I want to fix it.” 

“It’s not broken,” said Dean again. 

“Stop denying things just because you think they sound bad.”

“I’m not.”

Cas raised an eyebrow.

Dean searched for the words that would make it better. Anything. Any words to change Cas’ mind, to make him happy, to keep him safe, to make him want to stay alive forever—with or without Dean, to undo what happened. He found nothing.

Cas approached him. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder like he’d done a thousand times before. 

Dean pulled him into his chest in a tight embrace. He felt Cas breathing against his neck. He closed his eyes.

“I’m all right,” said Cas. “I promise.” 

Dean nodded, words still eluding him. 

“Five minutes,” said Cas. “That was our deal.”

It was a stupid deal and Dean should have put his foot down.

“Trust me,” said Cas. 

Those words were enticing. Cas whispered them against Dean’s skin like it was their own private prayer. Dean could lose himself in those words. 

“This can be our first step to leaving the room,” said Cas. “Step one, practice trust. Step two, break the sigils. Step three, practice leaving the bunker. Step four, something close to normalcy.” 

Dean held Cas closer. “You read my mind sometimes, don’t you?”

“Sometimes you pray without realizing it.”

Dean sighed and loosened his embrace. 

Cas pulled away from him, stepping deeper into the room. “Five minutes, Dean,” he said. “That’s all.”

Dean choked back the part of him screaming that this was another goodbye. He stepped back into the doorway.

Cas nodded, encouraging him to leave. 

Dean stepped into the hall. He forced himself to look forward. As soon as he turned away, he heard the door close. He leaned heavily against the wall and slid down to the floor to wait.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Buzz Lightyear once said, "I don't believe that man has ever been to medical school."

When the timer on his phone hit 4 minutes and 50 seconds, Dean stood and waited in front of the door to his room. 

When the seconds ticked away and the timer hit 5 minutes exactly, Dean reached for the door.

“Come in,” called Cas. 

Dean entered and shut the door behind him. Cas was still in the chair and Dean was still ill equipped to handle the situation. 

Cas offered a grim sort of smile. “Still alive,” he said. 

Dean shifted where he stood. “Do you need more time?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” answered Cas. “I thought a shower might be nice.” 

“Yeah?”

Cas frowned. “Alone, though. I don’t mean any offense.” 

“Not offended at all,” said Dean.

“Does that mean I can go?” 

Dean nodded because he couldn’t bring himself to say “yes.” He knew he had to let Cas go. It meant things were getting back to normal—or their version of normal. He knew, logically, at some point Cas would leave and it would be all right. 

The angel walked past him, towel in hand. Dean went to his bed and sat with his head in his hands. 

* * * 

They lay in bed together, Dean on his side, forcing his eyes closed, and Cas flat on his back staring up at the ceiling.

“I know you’re awake,” said Cas. “You must be exhausted. Let me help you.”

“No,” said Dean. “I’ll get tired and fall asleep eventually.”

“Like last night?” 

Dean cracked his eyes open. Cas was watching him with an eyebrow raised. 

“I slept last night,” said Dean. 

“Drifting off in five to ten minute intervals is not adequate.”

“I’m working on it.”

Cas rolled onto his side. “I hate this,” he said. 

“Don’t pull your punches, Cas.” 

“I don’t hate _you_. I hate what this is doing to you.” 

“I’m fine. We’re focusing on you.” 

“I hate that, too.”

“You want to watch a movie or something? We’re both up anyway.”

“No,” answered Cas. 

Dean sat up. If he lay down any longer he might fall asleep. If he fell asleep, Cas would be unguarded. “How about a book?” 

“No.” Cas sat up, eyes trained on Dean. “We need to talk.”

“That’s never good.” 

“Don’t be flippant. This is serious.” 

Dean bit his tongue and attempted to control the fear rising inside him.

“This isn’t working. You cannot sleep and I cannot think.”

“You can’t think?” 

“I can’t concentrate.” He sighed and a weary sort of dread shadowed his face. “I would like to apologize to Sam and Eileen tomorrow, then leave.” 

“No,” said Dean. “You can apologize, but you can’t leave.” 

“Dean.” 

“No, Cas.”

“Not forever,” he said. “Just an hour or so. I would like to get out of the bunker.”

“No. We’re still on step one.”

“We practiced trust yesterday,” said Cas. 

“We’re still practicing. Besides, step two is break the sigils. You don’t get to leave until step three.” 

“Fine. Let’s break the sigils tonight. I’ll stay and prove you can trust me not to run away. Tomorrow I can leave.” 

“No.” 

“We have to get back to the way things were.” 

“The way things were made you try to kill yourself.”

“I will not make another attempt on my life, I told you that.” 

“We have a plan,” said Dean. “We’re going to stick to it.” 

“Trust, sigils, leave?” asked Cas. 

“Bingo.” 

Cas sighed and ran a hand over his face. “And how long, exactly, will each phase take?” 

“I don’t know. It takes as long as it takes.” 

“And how do we know when we can move onto the next step?” 

“I’ll know,” said Dean. 

“You’ll know,” echoed Cas. “Right. The extent of my incarceration hinges on your gut feeling. That’s comforting.” 

“Way to be a bitch about it,” snapped Dean. “I know I’m kind of flying blind here, but I’m trying to take care of you.” 

“Then you should listen to me.” 

“I am listening.” 

“Then understand that when I say I need to leave, I need to leave.” 

“I need you to stay alive.” 

“I am alive.” 

“For how much longer? Do you have another plan? How the fuck would I know.” 

“I told you, I’d let you know.” 

Dean laughed. “Boy, that’s comforting. You’ll ‘let me know’ the next time you want to die. How much warning will I get? Can I say goodbye to you or is it going to be an over the phone thing? Maybe you’ll just text me.” 

Cas threw the covers back and got out of bed. He walked briskly to the door. 

Dean followed him. “Where are you going?” 

Cas ignored him. He went into the bathroom and shut the door. 

“Dammit.” Dean heard the lock click. He rushed forward and threw himself against the door. “Cas, open up.” He pounded hard against the wood. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. Open the fucking door.” 

A muffled “no” was all he got in return. 

“I will shoot this door down,” said Dean. 

Cas muttered something else, but Dean couldn’t hear it. He wondered if he left is razor in the bathroom. He wondered if Cas would find it. He wondered if the sigils in the bathroom were as strong as the others. He stepped back and kicked the door as hard as he could. The threshold cracked and the hinges tore away from the wood. The door collapsed with a loud bang. 

Cas stood near the wall in the bathroom. The sigil behind him was covered in what looked like Enochian written with toothpaste. The tube was still in Cas’ hand. 

“You son of a bitch,” breathed Dean. 

Cas spun around and began furiously writing on the wall. 

“Stop that!” Dean charged forward and grabbed for the toothpaste. Cas dodged him and ran out of the bathroom. Dean followed him down the hall and back to the bedroom. Cas was already writing over the sigil that kept him from becoming invisible. Dean tackled him. They wrestled on the ground until someone turned on the light. 

Sam and Eileen stood in the doorway, both in their pajamas and both holding backpacks. 

“What the hell, guys?” asked Sam. 

Cas shoved Dean off of him. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Sorry to disturb you.” 

Dean snatched the toothpaste from Cas. “He was trying to escape.” 

Sam looked from Dean’s hand to the wall behind him. “Ok,” he said slowly. “Why was he trying to escape?” 

“I asked to leave,” said Cas. “Just for an hour, tomorrow. Dean was an ass about it.” 

“That checks out,” said Sam. 

“So you decided to run away?” asked Eileen.

Cas clenched his jaw. 

Dean stood and brushed himself off, then inspected the sigil. “Sammy, get me a washcloth or something.” 

Sam set his backpack down and retrieved a cloth from it. He tossed it to Dean. 

Dean caught it and began wiping away the toothpaste, careful not to disturb the mark beneath. “What’s with the packs?” 

“First aid and magic,” answered Sam. “We weren’t sure what the noise was, so we brought both.” 

“I’m sorry,” muttered Cas. 

“It’s ok,” said Sam. “We’re light sleepers.” 

“Not just for this,” said Cas. “For everything.” 

Dean scrubbed the last bit of toothpaste from the wall and tossed the cloth in a basket near the door. “Don’t let him fool you,” he said. “His plan is to apologize then leave.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. 

Eileen frowned at Dean, eyes searching him. “Have you been sleeping?” she asked.

“No,” answered Cas.

“Yes,” answered Dean.

“Intermittently,” said Cas. 

“Are you sleeping, Cas?” asked Sam. 

“No,” answered Dean. "He says he doesn't need to."

“I think,” said Eileen, “you two need a little break. This is a lot of pressure to put on a new relationship.” 

“ _I_ know that,” said Cas. 

“We could ward the whole bunker,” said Sam. “Give Cas room to roam, but keep him here.” 

“Do we have enough holy oil?” asked Eileen. 

Cas huffed and stood. “You cannot keep me here forever. The confinement is maddening.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” said Dean. “You’re just in a bad mood.”

“How very observant of you,” said Cas.

“For the love of God,” said Sam. “Stop bickering. Eileen’s right. This is too much stress for both of you. Cas wants an hour to himself. We’re not ready to let him leave yet. We can compromise. Dean, why don’t you go chill in the library or something for a while and give Cas a break.”

“Are you crazy?” asked Dean. “You saw him breaking the sigils with toothpaste. He’ll just escape.”

“You have to learn to trust me again,” said Cas. “We cannot be mates if you don’t trust me and I have no autonomy.”

“He’s got a point,” said Eileen. 

“Fine,” shouted Dean. “We’ll let him go. Cas can just do what he wants and when we find his body I guess I’ll just learn to deal with it like I deal with everyone else we’ve lost. What’s one more dead family member, right? And even if Cas dies, God will probably bring him back, even though that asshole is notoriously MIA whenever we need him. But whatever. I can work with _probably_.” 

“Dean, stop it,” warned Sam. 

Dean stormed toward the door. “What’s another unknown in the mystery that is our fucking lives? This is great.” He kicked at the oily concoction bordering the doorway. “There. Cas, you’re free. Go crazy. I’ll standby waiting for you to let me fucking know when you feel like killing yourself again.” 

“Dean!” 

Sam shouted for him, but Dean was already out the door. He could hear the others talking. He walked briskly to the garage, grabbing his keys on the way out. He and Sam kept go-bags in the Impala. He didn’t even need to pack. He slammed the car door and cranked the engine. He opened the garage door, stepped on the gas and didn’t look back.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean drove west. The sun rose. He had to stop for gas on the outskirts of some town too small to be listed on a map. He had to go inside to pay. The clerk said something to him. Dean responded, or at least intended to respond. He got back into the car and kept driving. Around mid-day, he changed direction and went north. He didn’t bring his phone. There were burners in the Impala, but he didn't bother turning any of them on. 

He knew he was making things worse. He knew he needed to go back and apologize. He knew one day it would just be him and his car, but that day hadn’t arrived yet. He was forcing the inevitable. A wiser man would turn around and enjoy the time he had with his family while he could. A wiser man wouldn’t have left. 

Dean pulled into the parking lot of a shopping mall in Salt Lake City. He wasn’t sure when exhaustion hit, but he knew better than to stay on the road. Defeated, he crawled into the back seat and finally shut down.

* * *

Dean awoke panicked and disoriented. He was miles away from home and family, a coward, too broken and weak to be abandoned again. 

Death followed them everywhere. He’d lost everyone he’d ever loved at least once. This thing with Cas was different. Death was an enemy, figuratively and literally. Death chased them, fought them, taunted them. It was a monster he never expected to find lurking in the depths of the people he loved. Cas wasn’t possessed, cursed or poisoned. He was himself, and he wanted to die. 

Dean covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know what to do,” he murmured. He couldn’t force Cas to live in a cage. 

He leaned over the seat and grabbed the burner phones from the glove compartment. He turned them on and waited for them to sync and retrieve any messages he’d missed.

He waited for five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. After twenty minutes of staring at the phones, restarting them and staring again, he realized he didn’t miss any messages. No one tried to contact him.

Part of him wanted to keep driving; refuel, grab some snacks, dump burners and start over. If they didn’t want him back, he wouldn’t go back. If the break was inevitable at least this way he retained some semblance of control. 

“Fucking family,” he muttered. 

John had always loved from a distance. Now Dean understood why. It hurt too much to love up close. Keep love an arm’s length away, pain stays an arm’s length away too.

Bobby was never like that. Bobby stayed so close it was almost annoying. Bobby lost everyone he’d ever cared about and that never stopped him from loving Sam and Dean as much as he could, even in the darkest of situations.

Dean collected the phones and crawled behind the wheel. He shoved the phones back in the glove compartment. John would keep driving, check in later, come back in a few weeks or a month, and never settle anywhere again. He’d stay in constant motion, always trying to stay on top of the threat of pain. 

Bobby would go back, apologize, take responsibility, tell his family he loved them, say he was being an idjit.

Dean gripped the steering wheel. In the grand scheme of things, it was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

* * *

He reached the bunker early in the morning. He parked outside and ran up to the front door. Hands shaking, nerves steady, he slid the key into the lock and turned. The door didn’t budge. Dean tried again. Rather than risk breaking the key, he tried the garage. When that also failed, he went back to the door and knocked. 

He didn’t need to panic. He’d only been gone for about 24 hours. He didn’t see any weird symbols on the door, though they could be painted or carved on the inside. But Sam or Eileen or Cas would have tried to contact him. If something went wrong, they would have found a way to reach out.

_Unless they thought it was pointless. Unless they thought you didn’t care._

Dean pounded harder on the door. “Sam!” he shouted. 

The door swung open and Eileen appeared with a finger pressed to her lips. She shushed him and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her.

“What the hell?” hissed Dean.

“Cas said you were here,” she answered. “He’s distracting Sam and I’m in charge of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you guys were in trouble. I can’t get inside the bunker.”

Eileen shoved him back to the car. “I’ll explain. You drive.”

Dean noticed she didn’t bother signing to him. She knew he didn’t know the language. He made a mental note to learn.

They got into the car and Dean cranked the engine. “Do I get to know where we’re going?”

“Diner, park, vacant lot. It doesn’t matter.”

Dean’s stomach rumbled. “Diner,” he said. “Why can’t I get into the damn bunker?”

“Sam changed the locks.”

“That son of a bitch.”

“He’s pissed.”

“No shit. How’s Cas?”

She hesitated.

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Don’t worry,” said Eileen. “We agreed to get you and Sam on speaking terms again first.” 

“You guys trading spouses?” quipped Dean.

Eileen glared. “I think you mean ‘thank you.’”

“For what?”

She jabbed a finger at him. “I don’t know you very well, but I’ve heard a lot about the stupid shit you do. I know Cas loves you and Sam loves you, but you drive them crazy. I also know you’re scared, but you don’t want to lose them, so help me help you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Is Sam getting this lecture from Cas?”

“No. I’m telling you what you need to hear and Cas is telling Sam what he needs to hear.”

Dean choked back his sarcasm. “So I guess that means Cas didn’t leave.”

“That’s right. He stayed.”

Somewhere deep in his chest a knot loosened. “How’d you manage that?”

“He thought it would be too much stress for Sam, not knowing where you were and having him gone at the same time.”

“Sam could have called me.” 

“You didn’t take your phone.”

“He knows there are burners in the Impala.”

Eileen shrugged. “He’s really pissed.”

Dean huffed. “So how do I get back in the bunker?”

“Cas will text me when Sam’s out of his tree.” She held up a hand before Dean could retort. “And we will go back once you are out of yours.”

“Fuck me,” muttered Dean. 

He pulled into the parking lot of a nearby diner. They went inside and place their orders. Dean sipped coffee and waited for the lecture to begin. 

Eileen peered at him over the rim of her mug. She set her coffee down and stared at him. 

“What?” asked Dean. “You brought me here to yell at me, didn’t you?”

Eileen rubbed her forehead. “I can’t bring you back if you’re going to get defensive and act like an asshole.” 

“For your information, I came back to apologize and make things right, but that was before my asshat baby brother locked me out of my own goddamn house.”

Eileen remained unmoved.

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Fine. You want an apology? I’m sorry. I’m super-duper, infinity times sorry. I present to you, all the apologies in the fucking world. That’s how sorry I am.” 

Eileen took another sip of her coffee. “You were very sincere when we first brought Cas back. What happened?”

“I’m being sincere now.”

“I don’t need to hear your tone to know you’re being a dick.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn’t think of anything other than being locked out of the bunker. All other thoughts had vanished as soon as his key wouldn’t open the door.

Eileen looked down at her phone. She typed something out, then put it back down on the table. 

“Was that Cas?” asked Dean. “Has he already gotten through to Sam? We’re all just waiting on me because I’m the biggest asshole in assholeland? I’m King Asshole, right?”

“Please shut up,” said Eileen. “Cas was checking in. He’s mad, but he’s worried about you. He’s worried things are broken between you and he wants to fix it.” 

Just as suddenly as they had vanished, his feelings came flooding back. Dean’s chest tightened. He leaned forward, head in his hands, staring down at his coffee.

Mercifully, the waitress chose that moment to appear with their order. Dean took the opportunity to regain some control.

Cas thought he broke something. Dean wasn’t letting him fix it. Wasn’t the bulk of Cas’ guilt brought on by thinking he’d fucked things up beyond repair?

Dean poked at his food, still not looking up at Eileen. He was wrangling his emotions back into their respective boxes, but his grip was weak and he had no desire to ugly-cry over breakfast.

“Dean?”

He had to look at her so she could read his lips. He kicked himself again for not knowing how to sign. “What?” he asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Can’t I get a break from the lecture so I can eat?” The dam in his mind was weak. He was doing his best to patch it, but it wouldn’t hold forever.

They sat in silence for a while. He was too busy poking at his food to notice the two men approaching. It wasn’t until someone slid into the booth beside him that he looked up. 

“Hello, Dean.”

He glanced across the table. Sam was sitting with Eileen, a deep scowl set on his face. 

Dean sighed and took the hand of the man beside him. “Hey, Cas.”

“You’re a dick,” said Sam.

“I know,” said Dean.

“We’re supposed to be supporting Cas, but you had to throw a fit and leave.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dean.

“Good,” snapped Sam. “You know how worried we were? You left your phone. I had no idea where you went.”

“You were worried? Is that why you locked me out of the bunker?”

“For the record,” said Cas, “I was against that idea.”

“I didn’t want you to come barging back in without talking to me first,” said Sam.

“So talk,” said Dean. “I’m sure you didn’t come here just to call me a dick.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the waitress approach, then quickly turn on her heel and re-route to a different table.

“Guess what Cas did while you were gone,” said Sam.

Dean wanted to hit him. He had that smug you’re-walking-into-my-smart-lawyer-trap look on his face. “What?” grumbled Dean.

“He stayed in your part of the bunker. He even asked me to repair the boundary. Do you know why?”

“No, but I’ll bet the punch line has something to do with me being an asshole.”

“He didn’t want me to have to worry about him while I was worrying about you,” said Sam, confirming what Eileen just told him.

Dean rubbed his forehead.

“Sam,” said Cas. “We should take this conversation back to the bunker.”

“No,” said Sam. “Dean doesn’t get to come back until I know he’s not going to leave again.” His voice cracked slightly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam could hold a grudge with the best of them, but he seemed disproportionally upset. He nudged Cas. “Hop up,” he said. “Sam and I are going to talk outside.”

Sam huffed, but didn’t protest. 

Dean looked back at Cas before stepping outside. “You’ll wait here with Eileen?”

“Yes,” answered Cas.

“Go,” said Eileen. “We’ll talk about you behind your backs while you’re gone.”

Dean followed Sam outside. His brother walked briskly ahead of him and leaned against the trunk of the Impala, his back to the restaurant window.

Dean stood with his feet planted and his arms crossed, facing Sam. “So, you’re pissed,” he said.

“You caused Cas a lot of stress,” said Sam. “He doesn’t need that.”

“We’re not talking about Cas, we’re talking about you.” 

“I’m pissed.” 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “We established that. Don’t make me drag this out, you know I hate talking about this shit.” 

“Drag what out?” asked Sam.

Dean groaned because, of course, Sam was going to make this take as long as humanly possible. “Your feelings are hurt and stuff,” he said.

“Yeah, because you—”

“No, not me,” said Dean. “Cas. Don’t lecture me when you’re just as worried as I am that he might fly off and try to die again.”

“I trust him,” said Sam.

“Bullshit. I left and you flipped out because it’s safe to flip out at me. You know I’m not at risk. But you can’t yell at Cas, or lock him out of the bunker, or quit talking to him, or pout when you think he’s dumb.”

“That’s not true,” said Sam.

“Really?” asked Dean. “You’re fine? Cas tried to kill himself a week ago, an at this point he’s our closest living friend, but you’re fine. You’re not freaked out.”

“I didn’t say I was fine. And don’t change the subject. I’m still mad at you.”

“Because I left you to take care of Cas alone,” finished Dean. “Dick move, I get it.”

“No,” said Sam.

“No what?”

“It’s not that.”

“Not what?”

Sam shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t lose more people,” he said.

“I know,” said Dean. “And we’ve got to coordinate our efforts. I shouldn’t have left you alone to look after Cas, but—”

“Not Cas,” said Sam. “You. I can’t lose you. I mean, fuck, you’ve been pushing me away for awhile – I don’t even know if you know you’re doing it – but when you left I thought that was it. And I don’t understand Cas the way you do. I can’t keep him alive.” He ran his hands through his hair again. “I just – I panicked. I don’t know. I should have known you were just being a dick, and that you’d come back.”

Dean sighed and went to lean against the car with his brother. It figured they’d feel the same way, never tell each other and then freak out at the same time. He knew he should tell Sam he was worried about losing their new family, too. He didn’t know why it was right, but he knew it was important. He considered saying the words, but changed his mind. “I’ll be around as long as you want me around,” he said.

“I’ll always want you around,” said Sam quietly.

“And Cas isn’t going anywhere. If I have to bind him to me to make sure, I’ll do it.”

Sam half-smiled. 

“And Eileen?” asked Dean. “Are we counting her in the family?”

Sam blushed. “I’d like to.” 

“Then that makes four of us.”

“That means each of us has three people to lose.”

Dean sighed. “I can’t argue with that. But I think if Bobby were here, he’d tell us to nut up and be grateful. Enjoy the time we have with the people we’ve got for as long as we can.”

Sam wiped his eyes. “Yeah, and he’d be right.”

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I wish I could promise you that the people we love will be safe forever.”

“I’d make you the same promise, if I could,” said Sam. 

“You’ve got me, though,” said Dean. “No matter what.”

Sam nodded. “And you’ve got me.” 

“I’ll figure out how to work with Cas,” said Dean. “I can’t guarantee he and I won’t fight, but I won’t walk out again.”

“I can help,” said Sam. “We can take turns watching him.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder. He could see Cas and Eileen through the window. They turned away quickly when they saw him looking.

Dean sighed. “I think,” he said, “I’m going to have to let him go.” 


	14. Chapter 14

They returned to the bunker together. Cas head straight for Dean’s room once they got inside. Dean caught him by the arm.

Sam and Eileen kept walking. Dean already told him what he was going to say. Sam knew he needed to say it alone.

Cas watched the other couple leave, then cocked his head curiously at Dean. 

“I trust you,” said Dean. “This,” he gestured between the two of them, “isn’t broken. Sam’s going to help me take the sigils off and we’re going to clean up that holy oil gunk.” 

Cas licked his lips. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I do. I trust you to tell me what you need and you said you need some freedom.” He took a shaky breath. “I have to respect that.”

Cas stared at him with those crystal-clear blue eyes. 

“You left the bunker today,” said Dean, “and nothing bad happened.” 

“Sam thought it was better than leaving me here alone,” said Cas. “Though I did ask to go with him.” 

“But you didn’t try to ditch us,” said Dean. “You stayed and you came back with us. Which means,” he bit his lip, hesitating, “which means you were telling the truth when you said you needed to leave the bunker for a little while.” He brushed a wild strand of hair from Cas’ forehead. “I’m sorry I acted like a jackass. You were right. I should have listened.” 

“I shouldn’t have been so obstinate,” said Cas. His eyes fluttered slightly when Dean touched him. “I missed you.” 

Dean pulled Cas into his arms. “I missed you, too.” He kissed him gently. “Want to spend one more night in the bunker before you leave?” 

Cas frowned. “I intend to spend every night in the bunker.”

“I thought you wanted things to go back to normal.”

“I’ve always wanted to spend every night in the bunker,” said Cas. He pulled back slightly. “Unless that’s not appropriate.”

Something in Dean’s heart pinched. He didn’t need to ask why Cas hadn’t stayed before. It was Dean’s fault. Dean kept him away. Cas wanted to be a family just like the rest of them. 

Dean pulled Cas close again. “Stay every night,” he said. “I’m sorry haven’t said that before. I’m sorry I ever told you to leave. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you were alone.” 

The corner of Cas’ lips twitched in one of his microscopic smiles. “We’re all we have,” he said. 

* * *

The sigils were gone, scrubbed clean from the walls. The oily barrier had been scooped up and preserved in jars in case they needed it for something else. Dean’s weapons were back in his room and the bunker was back to its normal state.

Cas left after breakfast. He said he wanted thirty minutes, then he’d be back. 

Sam was in the library, researching a potential case. Dean and Eileen were both on their laptops in the war room. Every few minutes, Eileen would glance at him over her screen.

Dean finally caught her looking and smirked. Cas helped him learn a few phrases last night. He held out both hands, brought his middle fingers down toward his palms, lowered his hands to his chest and gestured. He asked his question out loud at the same time. “What’s up?”

Eileen’s face lit up and she started rapidly signing and talking. “Do you know more? When did you learn that?”

Dean tried to remember other things Cas showed him. He rubbed his fist in a circle over his chest. “Sorry,” he said slowly. He dropped his hands, not knowing how to continue. “I only know a little.” 

“Do you want to learn more?” asked Eileen.

Dean knew that one. He raised his fist and wiggled his wrist. “Yes.” He couldn’t think of the right word to describe the look of joy on her face.

She grabbed her laptop and moved to sit beside him. She opened a document and typed out the alphabet. “Do you know this already?”

Dean signed “no” with two fingers and his thumb. 

Eileen smiled wider. She started at the beginning, pointing to a letter and making the corresponding sign. 

Dean copied her. The look on her face was all the encouragement he needed to continue. She belonged, and he wanted to make sure she felt it.

Cas returned 29 minutes and 47 seconds after he left. Dean stopped the timer on his phone.

Cas kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Don’t let me interrupt your lesson,” he said. “I’m going to help Sam with his case.”

Eileen signed as she spoke. “I’ll give him back to you in a little while.”

Cas signed something back to her and she laughed. 

“What?” asked Dean. 

Cas looked smug. “Nothing. I’ll be in the library.” He walked away, obviously proud of himself.

Eileen suppressed another giggle. “The more you learn,” she said, “the less he’ll be able to gossip about you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, Yoda. Teach me what you know.”

He sat with Eileen until around lunchtime. Sam and Cas joined them across the table and challenged Dean to keep up with their signing. Dean kept skipping words and mixing up gestures. He was grateful Eileen could read lips because he was sure his bumbling hands made him seem like more of an idiot than he already was. He tried spelling out what he was trying to say, which Sam thought was hilarious. 

“You’re like a toddler,” he said, snorting. “What was his first word?”

“I don’t know,” answered Eileen. “Cas taught him some things last night.”

“He learned ‘sorry’ first,” said Cas. 

“Aw,” said Eileen. “That’s sad and kind of sweet.” 

“That’s a good one for him to know,” said Sam. 

“Bitch,” muttered Dean. 

Sam grinned. “Jerk.” 

After lunch Cas explained the case, a potential haunting in a library three hours north. For the first time in a long time, he seemed excited. 

“We were thinking,” said Sam slowly, “that we could take a short road trip today and check it out.” 

“We could take care of the ghost tonight,” said Cas.

Eileen bumped Dean’s knee with hers. “I like that plan,” she said.

Dean realized the others were waiting for his reaction. Eileen nudged him again. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Good plan. Ghost hunt tonight.” He glanced at Eileen, who seemed satisfied with his answer. Something occurred to him. “On one condition,” he said quickly. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “What?” 

“Cas has to do the soul-boost thing again,” said Dean.

“Absolutely not,” said Cas. “That is only for emergencies.”

“I don’t want you going in at half power,” said Dean.

“I’m much stronger than I was.” 

“If Cas needs a boost, he’ll tell you,” said Eileen.

“Yeah, right,” said Dean.

“You trust him, don’t you?” she asked. 

Dean glared at her. Of course Sam’s girlfriend would be just as much of a pain in the ass as he was. “Yes,” muttered Dean. 

“Good,” said Cas. “Can we go now?”

Dean groaned. “Yeah, I guess.”

Sam held up his hand and Cas actually high-fived him.

“If we leave now we can beat the traffic,” said Sam.

“By all means,” said Dean, “let’s leave now.”

Cas disappeared suddenly and Dean’s heart stopped. Cas reappeared just as suddenly holding two large bags. It took Dean a minute to remember how to breathe again.

“Sam and I took the liberty of packing,” said Cas.

“Eileen and I will take my car in case we need to split up,” said Sam. “I’ve already mapped it out. You guys can follow us there.”

“You drive like you’re 100,” said Dean, grateful for the distraction. “I don’t want to follow you.”

“You don’t know where we’re going,” said Sam.

Cas set one of the duffle bags down. He disappeared, then quickly popped back into existence beside Dean. 

Eileen put her hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. Then she stood and went to look through the things Sam packed for her.

Dean stood and Cas took his hand. 

“We’ll wait for you in the car,” he said to Sam and Eileen. His lip twitched when he looked back at Dean. 

There was a whooshing, a sharp gust of wind and suddenly he and Cas were sitting in the front seats of the Impala and the duffle was in the back. Dean took a second to find his bearings.

“You seemed startled when I disappeared earlier,” said Cas. “I thought it might comfort you to travel with me.” He reached over and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. The movement felt so natural that Dean leaned into it without hesitation. 

Teleporting wasn’t comforting, but being with Cas was.

“Thanks,” said Dean. He glanced at the door. Sam and Eileen weren’t there yet. He turned back to Cas, grabbed him by the shirt collar and kissed him hard, lingering before he pulled away. 

Cas’ cheeks were bright red. At that moment, Sam and Eileen opened the door. They threw their stuff in their car and signaled that they were ready to go. 

Cas set a hand on Dean’s thigh.

“Don’t distract me while I’m driving,” said Dean.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Cas.


	15. Chapter 15

They were separated during the hunt. Dean didn’t remember how. He heard a scream. Sam fired off a blast of rock salt. The ghost vanished then something hit Dean hard in the back of his head. He woke face down on a damp, musty carpet. 

He pushed himself up and tried to adjust his eyes to the dark room. They were near a window when the ghost appeared. He remembered seeing a shadow pass through it just before the attack. 

His current location didn’t have a window. He didn’t remember arriving or who was assigned what job. He touched his hand to the side of his head that was still throbbing. Something was crusted in his hair and along the side of his face. It had to be blood. His ears were ringing. 

Panic crept in. He couldn’t see. He could barely hear. He was already injured and he had no idea where the others were. 

He groped in the darkness, hoping to find a weapon or flashlight, anything he could use to improve his situation. He hit a wall. He followed it, hoping to find a door. Instead, he touched something soft and it flinched away from his hand. 

“Who’s there?” He asked, withdrawing to what he hoped was a safe distance.

It didn’t answer, but he thought he heard it scuffling around not far in front of him. It flinched, so it probably wasn’t a monster waiting to attack. It was afraid, like he was. Sam and Cas would have answered him back, unless they were gagged. Then again, it could be a monster toying with him. 

“If you can hear me, hold still,” said Dean. “Eileen, if that’s you, I’ll apologize for scaring you later.” 

He crawled forward on his hands and knees. He moved slowly. If it was Eileen, he couldn’t talk to her until he touched her. If he touched her again, there was a good chance she’d be prepared to beat the shit of him. 

He hit another wall. The room was small. He touched the moving thing again. A fist smashed against his fingers. 

Dean cursed, but grabbed onto the thing. The fabric beneath his hand felt like denim. He was pretty sure he was holding an ankle. 

A wild jab landed hard against his shoulder. Then another one hit his face. He struggled to both hold on and shield himself. 

The thing kicked. Dean reached blindly for the next fist that came his way. He wrapped his fingers around a wrist and quickly placed his hand over a smaller one.

“Please be Eileen,” he muttered.

He held tight to the wrist and pressed his other hand flat against the fist. Slowly, the fist relaxed and opened until they were touching palm to palm. He let go of the wrist and began to spell his name against the other hand. Through the darkness, Eileen’s voice range out like sweet music. 

“Dean!” she cried. Her free hand began grabbing at him, apparently searching for some kind of confirmation. 

He signed “yes” into her palm. 

“Is anyone else here?” she asked. 

He signed “no.” 

“Do you know where they are?” 

He signed “no” again. 

She huffed. They were essentially limited to yes or no questions because Dean was a slow learner and only remembered half of what she taught him early that day. 

“I’m going to stand,” she said. She felt for Dean’s shoulder and pulled him up with her. “I think the room is small. If we follow the wall we can find the door.” 

She didn’t wait for Dean to answer. She tugged him along behind her.

The ringing in his ears quieted. He pressed his free hand to the wall as they turned against another corner.

“Hinges,” shouted Eileen, “and a handle.” She took his hand and placed it on a metal handle. 

“It’s probably fucking locked,” said Dean. 

“It’s locked,” said Eileen. “Stay right here. I’m going to try to open it.” 

“I’m stronger,” said Dean. “I can break it down, but I don’t know how to tell you that.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” 

“I’ve got a lock pick in my pocket,” said Eileen. “If that doesn’t work, we can try to break it down.” 

“Ok,” said Dean. “Problem solved.” She wasn’t touching him any more, but she seemed to follow his train of thought. He figured her next priority would be the same as his; find Sam and Cas. 

He heard her tapping against the metal. She jiggled the handle a few times, then something clicked. 

“Oh my god, I got it,” she said. She pushed open the door. 

They stepped out into another dark room. Dean blinked. There was a faint strip of light in the air across from them. He gave his eyes another moment to adjust. 

The light was coming from underneath a door at the top of a staircase. 

“We’re in the basement,” said Eileen. 

He could almost make out her features. 

She tugged at him again and they ascended the stairs. That door was also locked, but Eileen got it open quickly. They stepped out into a dimly lit hallway. There wasn’t much to see but the fact that they _could_ see was a vast improvement.

“You’re bleeding,” said Eileen.

“It’s not bad,” said Dean. 

She touched the side of his face and he winced. 

“It hurts though,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Cas and I were in the attic when that thing grabbed me. Do you know how to get back to Sam from here?” 

“It knocked me out,” said Dean. “My memory’s kind of fuzzy.” 

“It didn’t knock me out. I’m pretty sure I can retrace my steps.” 

“Lead the way,” said Dean. 

She nodded and took his hand again. “Squeeze my hand if you need to tell me something.” 

Dean nodded and once again found himself being pulled along by Eileen. She led him quickly through the building and up another set of stairs. They reached a corridor with an open hatch in the ceiling and a ladder extending down to the floor. A light was on.

“Go first,” she said. “So I can see you. I don’t want it to grab one of us again.” 

“No,” said Dean. “What if it’s waiting down here and it grabs you?” 

“I’ll say something,” she answered. “Just go, we’re wasting time.” She shoved him forward. 

Dean muttered to himself and began climbing the ladder. He checked back to make sure Eileen was still with him. 

They entered the attic without incident. The light, as it turned out, came from a flashlight lying on the floor. 

“Sammy,” called Dean. “Cas? Anybody up here?” 

Eileen went for the flashlight. She grabbed it and returned quickly to Dean’s side, shining the light around the open space. They were alone. Old books and boxes were cluttered around them. Eileen showed him a spot on the floor where the dust was disturbed and told him it was where the ghost had grabbed her and pulled her away from Cas. 

“Why didn’t Cas smite it?” asked Dean. “He’s usually faster than that.” 

“I don’t know,” answered Eileen. “I lost sight of him just before it grabbed me.” 

Dean felt his heart skip the way it always did when a hunt went wrong. It was always the people he loved who got hurt. He would trade anything in the world to have found Sam in the basement with him instead of Eileen. 

“We should take a good look here,” said Dean. “We need to make sure it’s clear before we check the rest of the house.” 

“Library,” corrected Eileen.

Dean frowned.

“The books should have been your first clue,” she said.

He rubbed his temple. “Whatever. We’ve got to find Sammy.”

Eileen narrowed her eyes at him. “And Cas.”

“Yeah, and Cas,” said Dean. “But he’s an angel. He can hold his own for a while. Sam’s more vulnerable.” 

“He’s still really weak,” said Eileen. “He hasn’t recovered yet.”

“I know,” said Dean. “Look, we’ll find who we find. With any luck they were stuck together like we were.”

“Why are you weird?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “No idea. You tell me.” 

“You’re acting weird.” She stepped back from him and pulled a gun from behind her back. 

“Way to hold out,” said Dean. “Would have been nice to know you were armed.” 

She pointed the gun and flashlight at him. “Who are you?” 

He held his hands up. “I’m Dean,” he said quickly. 

“You’re not acting like Dean.” 

A knot twisted in his chest. Whatever they were dealing with, it seemed to have fucked with Eileen and it was stronger than a ghost.


	16. Chapter 16

Someone shouted from the bottom of the ladder. Dean recognized the voice. 

“Sam,” he called. “Eileen’s hexed or something. She’s got a gun, don’t come up here.” 

Eileen watched him talking. “Sam,” she said, “Dean isn’t really Dean. He’s being weird.” 

“Dammit,” said Sam. The ladder creaked and a moment later Sam’s head popped up through the opening. 

Eileen kept her gun aimed at Dean. “I had a feeling you weren’t you,” she said. “It was too convenient for us to be trapped together.” 

Sam scrambled forward and stepped in front of Eileen. “Don’t shoot him,” he said. 

“Don’t turn your back on him,” she said. 

“I’m me,” said Dean. “You’re hexed. Whatever is stalking this place messed with your head.” 

“Somebody fill me in,” said Sam.

“He didn’t know we were in a library and he’s not worried about Cas,” said Eileen. 

“I told you,” snapped Dean, “I got hit in the head. Sorry if I’m not firing on all cylinders just yet.” 

“Cas isn’t with you guys?” asked Sam. 

“He was with me,” answered Eileen. “Something grabbed me and I lost him. I got locked in the basement with Dean.” 

Sam frowned at him. “Pray to him,” he said. “Tell him where we are.” 

Dean was worried about Cas too, but he was usually _the most_ worried about Cas. Eileen and Sam were weirdly upset. 

“Did you pray?” asked Sam. “Did it work? Can you tell?” 

“Hang on,” said Dean. He sent a quick prayer to the angel.

 _Cas, if you can hear me, we’re in the attic. We don’t know what happened to you or what kind of monster we’re dealing with. Pop back up here so we can regroup._  

After a second thought, he added. 

 _I’m worried about you. We all are. Everyone is accounted for but you._  

“All right,” said Dean. “I did it. If he heard me, I assume he’ll pop up. It’s not like I’m not worried about him. Eileen’s making it sound like I don’t care if we find him or not.” 

“You’re not as upset as I would expect you to be,” said Sam. He started signing. 

Dean felt his cheeks flush. The light was on him. He couldn’t hide. “How upset do you want me to be?” snapped Dean. “Do you want to stand here and interrogate me or do you want to find Cas?” 

Sam inched closer to Eileen. 

Dean huffed. Maybe the hex or curse was contagious. It seemed to have an impact on Sam, too. 

“You said your memory is fuzzy,” said Eileen. “What do you remember?” 

“You think it’s another spell?” asked Sam. 

“It could be. Rowena didn’t look particularly apologetic about the last one.” 

They both looked at Dean. 

“What?” he asked. 

“What do you remember?” repeated Eileen. 

“We got here,” said Dean. “We looked for the ghost. I guess we split up. Sam and I heard a scream. The ghost-monster-thing showed up. Sam shot it. It hit me, then I woke up with you in that room.”

“Do you remember that I’m your brother?” asked Sam. 

“For fuck’s sake,” said Dean. “I know you’re my brother. Eileen is your girlfriend. Cas is an angel.” 

“He’s our best friend,” said Sam. 

“I know,” said Dean. 

Sam and Eileen exchanged a glance. Sam signed something, Eileen agreed with whatever it was. 

“What,” began Sam, “did you say to him just before we split up?” 

“I don’t remember,” snapped Dean. “How about you either shoot me or put the gun down.” 

“Do you feel any connection to Cas at all?” asked Sam.

Dean licked his lips. He felt a connection to Cas, but not one he was going to tell Sam about. 

“You love him,” said Sam, “right?”

Dean froze, mouth slightly open and desperate for something witty to spit back at his brother.

“God dammit,” said Sam. He signed to Eileen. 

She put her gun away and tucked the flashlight under her arm. She signed back.

Their conversation was too fast for Dean to read. He wasn’t really paying attention anyway. How did Sam know? He’d been so careful. Maybe Sam didn’t mean it that way. Cas was family. Dean loved his family.

Sam pulled out his phone and called someone. He spoke angrily to whoever was on the other end. “Did Rowena put a memory spell on Dean?” A pause. “Don’t act like that’s a stupid question,” snapped Sam. “We just fixed her spell on Cas.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why she does anything she does.” Another pause. “Because Dean’s memory is fucked up and we can’t find Cas. We were out on a ghost hunt but I think we’re dealing with something a lot stronger. It’s either you and your mom dicking around again or it’s a monster.”

“Is that Crowley?” asked Dean.

Sam brushed him off. His face fell. “Fuck you,” he said.

As Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, Dean caught the faint sound of Crowley’s voice on the other end of the call.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said. “But if he left you then—” 

Sam hung up. Whatever Crowley said left him shaken. 

“Am I going to die or something?” asked Dean. 

Sam and Eileen exchanged another silent conversation.

Eileen looked horrified. “We need to go back to the cars,” she said. “We might have what we need to summon him.”

They’d parked in the alley behind the library. Dean couldn’t remember why they took separate cars. Sam and Eileen were searching through their supplies when Dean noticed something sitting in the front seat of the Impala.

A small black bottle sat on top of folded paper. Dean grabbed the items. He unfolded the papers. There were three sheets, one addressed to each of them. Dean read the first paper, a letter to Eileen.

It thanked her for her friendship, told her she was strong; a great hunter. It ended with an apology.

Dean scowled at the paper.

Sam’s letter was longer. Cas called Sam his brother and thanked him for being his family. It ended in another apology.

Trembling, Dean unfolded the letter address to him. 

* * *

 

Plain text letter

_Dean,_

_The contents of the bottle will heal your head injury. I am sorry for abducting you and Eileen. I needed time and separating you seemed like the best distraction. I took care of the ghost._

_Against your wishes, I altered your memory. You may have trouble remembering specific details for the next several hours. Your mind will settle by the time you get back home. I am sorry, but this was a necessary action. You have not been yourself for a very long time because of me. You will begin to feel better soon._

_Sam and Eileen know the story, if you wish to inquire further. They don’t know everything, but they were present for enough._

_I wanted to say goodbye in person. I know this is a cowardly way to leave you, but saying these things to you would have been selfish. I cannot stand being selfish anymore. It’s better this way._

_I am sorry for all the pain I caused. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I hope this will help you heal._

_Castiel_

* * *

Dean read the letter again. Cas changed his memories. Cas said goodbye. Dean was still shaking and he didn’t know why. 

Someone touched his shoulder and gently took the letters from his hands. Someone urged him to sit down. Voices echoed around him. They said Cas was gone. They said he took the things they needed to summon and trap an angel. They called Crowley again. They said he would help. They hoped it wasn’t too late.

It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. Dean wondered which memories were real and which were patches created to fill the empty spaces. He wondered what memories belonged in those empty spaces. He wondered what he did to make Cas leave. He wondered if he told Cas how much he meant. He wondered if Cas knew he loved him.

The pavement crunched as someone knelt in front of him. 

“We’re going to find him,” said Sam. 

“He left suicide notes,” said Dean.

“I know, but it’s not too late.”

“He changed my memories.”

“I know.” Sam hesitated. “I can tell you what happened.”

Dean shook his head. “Not yet.” He pressed a hand over his eyes and collected himself. “We need to get back to the bunker. Cas is probably already dead. We need to figure out how to get him back.” 

“Dean—” 

“Bunker.” Dean stood and brushed himself off. He grabbed his keys and got behind the wheel of the Impala.

“But your head.”

Dean uncorked the little black bottle and downed the liquid inside. It tasted like ash and something spicy. He coughed. “I’m good,” he said. “Keep up. We’re not making any pit stops.” 

Sam and Eileen followed behind him. He pushed the Impala to full speed on the open highway. He kept his mind blank and stared at the road. They reached the bunker an hour early.

Dean went straight to the library. He started grabbing books and journals, making three stacks. Sam and Eileen each took one without question. Dean sat down and cracked open a large leather-bound journal and began searching for anything related to reviving an angel.

Around 4 a.m. he told the other two hunters to go to sleep. He said he’d go to bed shortly as well. They needed to be well rested so they could start fresh tomorrow. 

They refused to leave until Dean left. So he took some books and retreated to his room. 

He sat on his bed with his legs crossed and continued reading. His sheets smelled like Cas. He closed his eyes for just a second and tried to remember why.

Around 6 a.m. he went back to the library for a new stack of books. Hours of searching resulted in less than a page of notes and zero leads. He started searching online for reports of bodies matching Castiel’s description. 

Around 8 a.m. he lay down and wrapped himself in his sheets. He closed his eyes again.

He saw Cas lying motionless. The outline of a pair beautiful, broken wings scorched into the earth beneath his back. They were outstretched, massive and daunting like they were the night Dean first met Cas. But these wings were just imprints, ghosts of their former glory. The earth would heal and the ghosts would fade and no one would know an angel died there.

Dean clutched a pillow to his chest and buried his face in the fabric. He wasn’t surprised when he inhaled the scent of another lost memory.

* * * 

Dean didn’t grieve around the others and they didn’t grieve around him. They stayed determined and hopeful while in each other’s presence. They pooled together their meager findings and told themselves it was progress. 

In the evenings, Dean went to his room. Every day he found something new that nagged and begged for meaning. There was a pen on the nightstand he never used, an unfamiliar cup on his desk, a stain of a strange sigil on his wall, new hinges on his bathroom door, a black feather on the floor by the closet.

Sam again, offered to tell him what happened. Again, Dean dismissed him. He went to his room and called all the hunters he knew and told them to keep an eye out for a man with blue eyes, dark hair and a dirty trench coat. 

He slept for a few hours each night, just enough to keep himself going. It became harder and harder to get out of bed. One day it wouldn’t remind him of Cas. One day his pillow would smell like detergent. One day he wouldn’t find anything out of place in his room. One day he would have to talk to Sam because he didn’t have any memories of his own.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang tight guys

  _Cas sat up and looked at the wing marks on either side of him. Seemingly confused, he pulled up the sleeves on his trench coat and examined his wrists._

_The sun was setting. Dean hid in the long shadows of the trees and watched the angel._

_Cas covered his face with his hands._

_Dean hated seeing him this way. Carefully, he crept from the bushes and moved closer. Cas didn’t seem to notice, so Dean sat down in front of him._

_“I’m so sorry,” muttered Cas._

_“It’s ok,” said Dean._

_“It’s not. I hurt you. I’m still hurting you.”_

_“I’d stop hurting if you came back.”_

_Cas shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be stronger.”_

_Dean pulled Cas’ hands away from his face. His eyes were sunken, dark, and tired. “Why did you leave?” asked Dean._

_“You weren’t thinking clearly. I poisoned your soul.”_

_“Bullshit.”_

_“You don’t remember, but it’s true.”_

_“I want to remember.”_

_Cas shook his head. “I can’t let you do that. You will never be ok until you let me go.”_

_“You killed yourself,” said Dean. “Why?”_

_“I didn’t want to be alive anymore,” answered Cas. “I was tired and I wasn’t making a difference with the life I’d been given.”_

_“You made a difference to me.”_

_“Not a good one.”_

_Dean took Castiel’s hands in his own. “I miss you,” he said. “You have no idea.”_

_“You won’t miss me forever. You’re strong. You will heal.”_

_“I don’t think I can come back from this.” He licked his lips. “I don’t think I want to come back from this.”_

_“You will,” said Cas. “You’ll do it for Sam.”_

_“Sam misses you, too.”_

_“Help him heal.”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“You’ve lost people before. You’ll find a way to go on.”_

_“No,” said Dean. “You have to come back. Tell me how to bring you back.”_

_“You can’t,” said Cas. “I’m dead and that’s all right.”_

_Dean felt his eyes burning. “Please,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything.”_

_“I don’t want to go back.”_

_“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”_

_“I don’t want to go back, Dean.” Cas pulled his hands away and stood. The wings began to fade into the ground._

_“Don’t leave me,” said Dean. “This is the only place I can find you. Please don’t leave me.”_

_Cas turned away._

_Dean couldn’t make his legs move. He was too heavy. His body wasn’t responding the way it should. “Cas, please,” he shouted._

_The angel kept walking._

_He called after Cas again. He screamed until the last sliver of sunlight slipped below the horizon._

Dean woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding against his ribs. He hated his dreams, but God help him, he needed them. He rolled over and grabbed the bottle beside his bed. He drank until his head felt heavy and his eyes struggled to stay open. He clutched Cas’ letter in one hand. Every time he touched it, the word _suicide_ flashed in his mind. He was too dizzy to examine whether or not the thought was his own, or some product of worst-case-scenario of a life. Just before the darkness took him, he prayed. 

* * * 

He was awake before Sam and Eileen. He drank the first pot of coffee he made, so he put another one on to brew. The caffeine didn’t do much for his hangover, but it helped him focus. 

He sat down at the table, in front of the last stack of books. God created the angels and only God could remake them. The books all seemed to agree on that. He’d widened his search to include tracking spells. Sam had reached out to their meager circle of friends for help. They tried and failed to summon him. They tried and failed to track him. They tried and failed to bring him home. 

If Cas didn’t want to be found, he knew the precautions to take. He was smart. He knew how to ward himself and stay hidden. 

Rowena tried all of the relevant spells she knew without luck. Dean tried spells from Bobby’s notes and John’s journal. Nothing pointed to Cas. 

The others joined him an hour later. Sam called Crowley again and Eileen started re-reading the books Dean already read. 

Sam ended the call. He sat beside Dean and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Keep going,” said Dean. “We’ll find something.” 

“I think we need to regroup,” said Sam. “It’s been weeks.” 

“It’s been _one_ week,” corrected Dean. 

“Three,” said Sam. “Three weeks.” 

“Whatever,” muttered Dean. The amount of time didn’t matter; progress mattered. “We’re almost done here. After this I’m going to head up to South Dakota. Bobby had a storage shed up there. Might still be there.” 

“A lot of people are looking for him,” said Sam. “You should take a—” 

“Who?” asked Dean. “Who else is _really_ looking for him?” 

“Crowley and Rowena,” answered Sam. “I get a call from one of them every day.”

“They don’t give a shit about Cas,” snapped Dean. “The only people who care about him are in this room.” He glared back down at his book. It was the last one and it wasn’t about angels. After this, he’d check all the old caches left behind by Bobby and John. Something had to tell him how to find a body. 

“We’re going to find him,” said Sam. “We’re not giving up, I promise. Rowena found a new scrying spell. She’s going to try it tonight.” 

“He warded his vessel,” said Dean. “Guessing that’s why we can’t find it.” 

Sam pulled his hand away. “He might be al—” 

“He’s dead,” said Dean. He flipped a page. “His grace is gone. God has to put him back together, but we all know how reliable that asshole is.” 

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Sam. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean flipped another page. “At this point I’ll be happy if we can just get his body back here.” 

Sam sighed, then was quiet for a moment. “You should let me tell you what happened.” 

“No,” said Dean. 

“You don’t even know which memories are missing,” said Sam. “Hell, I don’t know which memories are missing. What if I say something that makes you remember something important?”

“You won’t,” said Dean. “He erased them all. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“You guys spent a lot of time alone,” said Sam. “I’m sure there are things he only said to you.” 

“Well, they’re gone now.” 

“But he might—” 

“I said they’re gone,” shouted Dean. He slammed his fist on the table. “The memories are gone, he’s gone, and there’s not a damn thing we can do to change bring them back.” 

“If you believe that, why are you still looking for spells?” countered Sam. 

Dean laughed, short and empty. “That’s a good point,” he said. He slammed the book shut and pushed away from the table. Sam and Eileen were both staring at him. “You two find us a case.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Sam. 

“Why not? People die. Life goes on. We’ve been through this before. We’ve taken enough time off. We have to get back in the saddle.” 

“You’re still processing this,” said Sam. “It’s ok to take some time.”

“I don’t need any more time. Cas is dead. He killed himself. I can’t change that. No spell in the world can change that. We have to pray that God’s paying attention and he’s in a good mood.” He headed back to his room, the bottle of whiskey calling his name so loudly he could hear it echoing throughout the halls. “We’ve got to find a case and keep fighting. That’s what we do.”

He left, knowing good and well the other two were going to talk about him behind his back.

* * *

_Cas looked up at him, horrified. “What are you doing here?”_

_“I heard you,” answered Dean. “You were calling for me.” He sat on the edge of the bed beside the angel._

_“That’s not possible,” said Cas. He moved to stand and Dean grabbed his wrist._

_“Don’t,” said Dean. “Please. Not again.”_

_“I have to go. This isn’t right.”_

_“What you did to me isn’t right,” snapped Dean. He stood and leaned in close to the angel’s face, wrist still firmly gripped in his hand. “You took my memories. I don’t know what’s real and what you made up.”_

_“I only changed the last few weeks. Sam knows the story. Ask him.”_

_“No. I want my story. I lost my family, my best friend. You took that from me. You don’t get to take my memories, too. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”_

_“I didn’t mean to—”_

_“Yes you did.” Dean jabbed a finger at him and stepped closer. “You do this shit all the time and I’m sick of it.”_

_“You don’t always have a complete view of the problem,” said Cas. “Like now, for example.”_

_“Whose fault is that?” He stepped forward and Cas stepped back. “You stacked the deck against me.”_

_Cas twisted free of his grip and shoved Dean aside._

_“Don’t you dare leave me again,” said Dean. “After all the shit we’ve been through, you don’t get to leave me again.”_

_“Things need to go back to normal,” said Cas. “Eventually you won’t care.”_

_“Fuck that,” said Dean. “You think I can’t figure out what happened? You think just because I don’t know for sure, missing you isn’t just as fucking miserable?”_

_Cas stopped._

_“I know you were with me,” said Dean. “I know something changed and I know it made me happy.”_

_“You weren’t happy.”_

_“Yes, I was.”_

_The lights dimmed. Wind rushed around them and Cas dropped to his knees. His wings burst from his back and encircled him. His voice filled the room in a harsh whisper._

_“Break the bond. Die to break the bond.”_

_“What does that mean?” asked Dean._

_Cas wasn’t talking to him. “Death will break it. Death will heal him. I’ve died before, but maybe we weren’t bonded before. Maybe I came back too soon. What if he dies too?”_

_“What the hell are you talking about?”_

_“I bonded with a human; a good human. Innocent man.” Cas’ voice began to fade._

_Dean hurried across the room, but the angel himself was also fading. “Don’t,” shouted Dean. He threw himself against Cas and began burrowing through dense black feathers until he found bright blue eyes staring back at him._

_“Death is the only way,” whispered Cas._

_Dean took Cas’ face in his hands. “No, it isn’t.”_

_“Let go.”_

_“No. Dreams are all I have left. Don’t take that away. Please, Cas.”_

_“Let go.”_

_“Please,” whispered Dean. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the angel’s. “Please stay.”_

_Cas didn’t answer and Dean couldn’t bring himself to watch. He stayed on the floor, holding Cas until the room fell silent and the warmth beneath his fingers faded away._


	18. Chapter 18

Dean didn’t get out of bed that morning. He curled on his side, watching the empty desk chair. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hungover. He had a nagging suspicion he was still drunk. 

Moments ago he was holding Cas. He knew he must have done that at some point outside of his dreams. He’d give anything to remember how it felt. 

He closed his eyes and prayed for another dream. 

“Dean?” 

The door to his room opened. Sam set a cup of coffee and a glass of water on the table by his bed.

“How much did you drink last night?” asked Sam.

Dean stared past his brother at his desk.

“Can you sit up?”

“Yeah,” muttered Dean. His mouth was dry and he felt his lips sticking together.

“Can you do it now?” 

“My head hurts,” said Dean. Everything hurt. Having his eyes open hurt.

His little brother was watching him.

“I’m ok, Sammy,” he said. “Just a nasty hangover.” 

“I haven’t seen you drink this much in a long time,” said Sam.

“I haven’t had this much in a long time.”

“You can’t keep doing this.” 

“I know,” said Dean. He blinked slowly. “I’ll get past it. It’s just taking longer than I thought.”

“You loved him,” said Sam. “It’s ok if you don’t get past it.” 

“Got to get back to normal,” muttered Dean.

“We can’t. That’s ok, too.”

Dean wanted to be angry. Every muscle vibrated with the urge to maim and destroy. He wanted to break something, watch something wither away in his hands. He wanted to scream until his throat bled and his rage blinded him to the pain. Then, as quickly as the urge ignited, it plateaued and died. He closed his eyes. 

“Tell me what happened,” said Dean.

“With Cas?” 

He nodded.

“Do you remember when we picked him up on the side of the road and he didn’t remember who we were?” 

Dean shook his head, tears already bleeding through his lashes.

“We saw his wings,” said Sam.

“They’re black.”

“Yeah,” said Sam. 

“Keep going.”

“Rowena cursed him. She owed Chuck a favor and he cashed it in to make you and Cas happy.”

Dean wiped his eyes.

“You told him you loved him and that broke the curse. When Cas remembered again, he panicked and left. We had to summon him to get him back.” Sam sighed. “I guess that’s why he knew to take precautions against being summoned this time. Rowena and Crowley helped. When we got him, he’d already cut himself. You made us leave. There was a ring of holy fire. You went in there with him.”

“Was that his first attempt?” asked Dean.

“Yes,” answered Sam. “The first one we know of. You got him to touch your soul and heal himself.”

“How?”

Sam’s voice shook. “You thought we couldn’t see you, but I was watching through a crack in the door. You cut your arm open. He had to save himself to save you.”

Dean imagined the flames of the fire, felt Cas weak and heavy in his arms. He wiped his eyes again. “Then what?” he asked. 

“We warded your part of the bunker. Cas couldn’t go past your bathroom. You watched over him for a while.” 

Dean felt his throat close. He struggled to breathe. “Hang on,” he murmured. He tried to target and contain the emotion. He scowled, closing his eyes tighter. He put a hand over his heart.

“Are you all right?” asked Sam. 

“Hurts,” answered Dean. 

“What hurts? Your chest?” 

He nodded. The pain was real, but it wasn't his. He wasn't sure to whom it belonged instead. “Why?" he asked. "Did we ever find out why?” Cas talked about killing himself years ago. Dean never addressed it. He left Cas alone to suffer. 

“Why he—the first time?” Sam’s voice wavered as he struggled to speak. 

“The first time he tried to kill himself,” answered Dean. “Did he tell us why?”

“He told you,” answered Sam. “You didn’t get a chance to tell me much. Things were pretty tense after that.” He took a shaky breath. “He wanted the freedom to leave. You wanted to keep him here.” 

When Sam’s voice cracked again, Dean opened his eyes. Sam wasn’t looking at him. He had his arms folded over his chest. He was staring down at the floor, crying. Dean sat up slowly, his head still spinning.

“I’m sorry,” breathed Sam. “I let him go. I told you we could trust him.”

“Don’t start that,” said Dean. “If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

Sam shook his head. “He loved you so much. I should have listened to you. We should have kept him in your room until we were sure he was all right.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Dean. “I must have trusted him too, otherwise I’d have put my foot down.”

“You did.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Dean. “And Cas sure as hell doesn’t blame you. He got what he wanted.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true,” said Dean. “He wanted to die and now he’s dead. I should probably be happy for him.” 

“We still don’t know for sure,” said Sam. 

“Dead or alive, he doesn’t want to be around us.” 

Sam stared down at the floor.

Dean rubbed his eyes. “My head’s killing me,” he said. 

“You’re drinking too much,” said Sam. 

“I know,” said Dean quietly. He leaned forward, head in his hands.

Sam sighed. “Sleep it off,” he said. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“You don’t have to check on me,” said Dean. “I’ll come out once the room stops spinning.”

After Sam left, Dean retrieved the long black feather from this desk. He returned to his bed, twirling the feather in his fingers. He finally fell asleep again with it resting on the pillow beside him.

* * *

_Cas was watching him from the chair by his bed._

_“Are you happy?” asked Dean._

_“Yes.”_

_“Liar.”_

_“Why ask if you aren’t going to believe me?” asked Cas._

_“Sam said you loved me.”_

_“Our relationship wasn’t romantic.”_

_“Christ,” said Dean bitterly. “You’re going to take everything, aren’t you?”_

_“I can’t take something you never had,” answered Cas._

_“I love you,” said Dean. “You don’t deserve it, but I love you.”_

_“You’re wasting both your time and your words.”_

_Dean stood and crossed the room. “We were together,” he said. “I might not remember it, but I can feel it.” He closed the distance between them and pulled Cas up by his tie._

_The angel glared at him. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and tried to push him away. Dean held tighter and backed Cas up against the wall._

_“I love you,” said Dean, “and I know goddamn good and well that you love me.”_

_“You’re deluding yourself.”_

_“It’s my dream. I can do that.”_

_Cas tried to push away from him again._

_“If you want me to move, you’re going to have to hurt me,” said Dean._

_Castiel’s eyes flashed with grace._

_Dean snaked his free hand up Castiel’s chest and neck, then stopped, twisting his fingers in the angel’s hair._

_“I will hurt you,” said Cas._

_“Do it,” said Dean._

_Cas licked his lips, his breathing harsh and heavy. Dean pressed his hips against him. Cas’ eyes flashed again, pupils blown wide. Dean leaned in closer, taking his time as his lips brushed against Castiel’s. He rocked his pelvis forward and Cas let out a soft moan, eyelids fluttering._

_“I don’t want to die,” breathed Cas._

_“Then don’t.” He kissed the angel gently._

_Cas surrendered. He embraced Dean, fingers clawing at his back as tongue explored his mouth._

_They broke apart, panting._

_“I don’t want to die,” repeated Cas._

_“Stay with me,” said Dean. “Come back.”_

_“I can’t, not after everything I’ve done.”_

_Dean trailed his lips over Cas’ cheek and nibbled at his earlobe. “I’ll forgive you,” he whispered. “I promise.” He released the tie and slid his hand down Cas’ body._

_“Stop it,” said Cas._

_“Give me my memories back,” said Dean._

_“Then you’ll let me go?”_

_“Yes, if that’s really what you want.”_

_Cas touched two fingers to Dean’s temple and his mind seemed to burst. He backed away from Cas and collapsed on to the floor. He felt a gust of wind. When he looked up, Cas was gone._

* * *

Dean awoke and sat up in bed gasping for air. His head was buzzing but he wasn’t hungover anymore. He shoved the sheets away from him and ran out of his room calling for Sam. He remembered.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so nice so instead of being a dick and making you wait a week, here's a new chapter. Thank you for all of the sweet comments!

The three hunters gathered in the library. Dean gave the others a G-rated recap of his dream and told them dream-Cas restored his memory.

“It has to be the bond,” said Eileen. 

Dean chewed on his lower lip. He couldn’t say it out loud, none of them could, but if Dean was hearing Cas through their grace bond then Cas was probably alive. 

“He said he didn’t want to die, right?” asked Sam. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “But he also said he couldn’t stay.” 

“Did you pray to him?” asked Sam. 

“Yeah, but I don’t know if he heard me. I think I’ve been feeling some of his feelings since he’s been gone, but the only time I see him is when I’m asleep.” 

“Well,” said Eileen, “we know you’re not just imagining things. Your memory came back, so your dreams are having a real-world impact.” 

Sam shifted his weight. “Do you dream about him every time you sleep?” 

“No,” answered Dean. “I’d say I see him 80 percent of the time.” 

“So if you go back to sleep, there’s a good chance you’ll see him?” asked Sam. 

Dean nodded. They still weren’t saying it. Every one in the room was too jaded to put their hope into words; that Dean was really talking to Cas. 

“If you see him again could you find out where he is?” asked Sam.

“I think so,” said Dean. “In theory,” he said slowly, “if I got knocked out for a while, I’d have a better chance of seeing him.” 

“Like a coma?” asked Eileen. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. He licked his lips. “And maybe, if he’s the only one who can wake me up, he’ll come back.” 

Sam’s jaw clenched. “That’s—we don’t know if he _can_ come back.”

“I’m willing to take that chance,” said Dean. 

“We need a failsafe,” said Sam, “to get you back if he can’t.” 

“No,” said Dean. “I don’t have complete control over what I say when I see him. My thoughts just kind of spill out. If I slip up and tell him there’s another way for me to wake up, he’ll bail.”

Eileen glanced at Sam.

“It’s worth the risk,” said Dean.

Sam sighed. “If we do this, Cas will know you’re not really in danger. He knows I’d never do something like this without a backup plan. He’ll bank on me wanting to keep you safe.”

“So we get someone else to do it,” said Dean. “Better yet, we find some kind of coma-inducing monster and let it take me.”

“Cas will know I’ll kill the monster if you’re not safe.”

“You can’t kill it if you don’t know where it is.”

“No,” said Sam.

“That could work,” said Eileen.

“Absolutely not,” said Sam. “There has to be another way.” 

“We don’t have a lot of time to hash this out,” said Dean. “Cas isn’t stable.”

“I can’t lose you,” said Sam.

“I can’t lose Cas,” said Dean.

“What if he shows up, kills the monster, sets you free, and doesn’t stay?” asked Sam.

“That’s why I’m going to talk to him first. I’ll convince him to stay.”

“That didn’t work last time,” said Sam. “We all talked to him and we all believed he was better.”

“But he doesn’t want to die anymore,” said Dean.

Sam shook his head. “Pray to him again. Tell him what you’re thinking about doing. That should be enough to bring him back.”

“He think’s he’s done too much damage to come back,” said Dean. “We have to force him.”

“Just try praying. Tell him we’re not mad.”

Dean rolled his eyes and reluctantly agreed. 

_Cas, we’re going to get you back, come hell or high water. We can do this the easy way where you just come here without a fight, or the hard way where we force your hand. We’re not mad. Everybody is worried. We’re not giving up on you._

“Done,” said Dean. “Now somebody find me a coma-monster.”

A breeze ghosted through the room accompanied by a faint rustling sound. They turned to see someone huddled in the corner. A tangible shock filled the room. 

Dean held up his arm to stop the others from rushing forward. “Cas?”

He didn’t look up.

Dean approached him slowly; glancing back at Sam to prove to himself this wasn’t a dream. When he reached Cas he gently lifted the angel’s arms, searching for wounds. He laid two fingers against the pulse point on Cas’ neck. His heartbeat was steady and strong. He tilted Cas’ chin upwards and when the angel met his gaze Dean could breathe again.

He wrapped Cas in his arms and buried his face against his neck. Dean cried, trembling as he clung to his friend.

Sam and Eileen soon joined him, surrounding Cas with silent relief.

Cas’ voice was muffled when he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please don’t give yourself to a monster.” 

Dean gripped him tighter. “It’s ok,” he said.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You don’t have to explain,” said Dean.

“I do. I owe you at least that much.” Cas pulled away from the group, backing himself further into the corner.

Dean knew they should give him room, but no one moved. They were too afraid to let him go again. 

“Dean, I wanted to believe you,” he began. “The things you said—your kindness was intoxicating, but I knew it couldn’t be true. I knew you were speaking under the influence of the bond. I thought I was controlling you.”

Dean shifted his weight forward, prepared to lunge if Cas took off again. 

“I fed Sam the case,” said Cas, “planned my escape and prepared to die.” He took an uneasy breath, voice shaking. “But I kept hearing your voice. I kept thinking about the way you all treated me like family. I knew I _should_ die, but I didn’t want to do it. I couldn’t.” 

Cas looked up at them, tears flowing freely. “I can’t explain the darkness in my mind, where it came from or why I listened, but your voices over powered it. I started living because I didn’t want to hurt you. Then I started living because I wanted to, but I—”

He put a hand over his mouth as if he couldn’t bring himself to say more. Dean pulled his hand away and held it in his own.

“I couldn’t come back after what I did to you,” breathed Cas. “I’ve been hiding, waiting for the right moment—the right way to tell you.”

“It’s ok,” said Dean quietly. “You’re ok. That’s all we care about.”

“I thought I was controlling you,” said Cas. “But then you were in my mind, talking to me after I tried so hard to keep you out.”

Dean brought Cas’ hand to his lips and kissed his palm. “I was really talking to you while I was dreaming, wasn’t I?” he asked.

“Yes,” muttered Cas. “I couldn’t make you leave.” 

“Is that part of our bond?" 

“Yes.”

“Thank God,” said Dean.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas whispered.

“We forgive you,” said Eileen.

“You’re family,” said Sam. “We will always forgive you.”

Cas nodded and Dean pulled him into his arms again. Sam and Eileen stepped back and gave them some space.

“I don’t know how to make this right,” said Cas. 

“You came back,” said Dean. “That’s all you needed to do.”

* * *

They called off the search. It was quiet in the bunker as they grappled with the realization that Cas was finally home. Dean didn’t lock him away this time. Instead he held Cas’ hand and stayed by his side. 

He sat with the angel on a couch in a room dedicated to late nights and TV marathons. One arm was on the armrest and the other was wrapped around his angel. Sam and Eileen sat together. They agreed to decompress with a movie, but the volume was low and everyone was paying more attention to Cas. Whenever Cas caught one of them looking, he’d apologize again.

Dean kissed his cheek. “Forgive yourself, Cas,” he murmured. “You want to live. That’s all we care about.”

Cas leaned into him. “Thank you,” he said.

Sam stood suddenly, pulling Eileen behind him. He sat down on the other side of Cas so they were pressed shoulder to shoulder. Eileen reached across Sam and took Cas’ hand. She squeezed it before letting go.

“We love you,” she said. “And we forgive you.”

“You complete this family,” said Sam. “Nothing you have done or will do is unforgivable.”

“I don’t know how to make it up to you all,” said Cas.

“You’re alive,” said Sam. “That’s enough.”

Dean nuzzled against the soft skin below Cas’ ear and prayed. _Forgive yourself. You’d forgive me if our situations were switched._  

He was surprised when Cas’ reply whispered back to him through the bond. 

 _I would forgive you for anything,_ said Cas. 

 _Then you know I’d do the same for you,_ said Dean.

Cas didn’t answer, but he did sigh and rest his head against Dean’s shoulder. It didn’t mean their problems were solved or that Cas was healed, but it was a start and for now, that was enough.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations! You made it to the end! 
> 
> Looking to work on something else while I finish Grace...anybody have any ideas? Any one-shot prompts out there?

Dean went to bed curled around Cas. To his surprise, the angel fell asleep not long after they settled in for the night. Dean nuzzled closer to him and drifted off with his face partially buried in Castiel’s hair. He didn’t dream.

When he awoke, he was still wrapped around Cas, but the angel had turned over in the night. He was now facing Dean, blue eyes half-open and a faint smile on his lips. 

Dean blinked once then studied Cas, just to confirm this was real. 

“Good morning,” rumbled Cas.

Dean grinned and kissed him. “Morning,” he said.

“I don’t really want to get out of bed yet,” said Cas. 

“Good,” said Dean. “Neither do I.” 

A crease formed at Cas’ brow and he frowned. “You make it seem so easy.” 

“Make what seem easy?”

“This,” answered Cas. “Us. There should be consequences for what I did to you and your—our family, but I returned and no one has asked anything of me despite all the pain I caused.”

“This isn’t Heaven,” said Dean. “We don’t punish each other, you don’t owe us a pound of flesh for your sins.” 

Cas sighed, still visibly concerned. “I should repay you, both for your kindness and for the pain I caused.”

“That’s not how family works,” said Dean. “With us, you get an infinite number of second-chances.” 

Cas sighed again and Dean felt something tug deep within his chest. The feeling was uncomfortable and it set him on edge. He searched Cas’ eyes and realized the sensation was not his own. It came from the angel.

Instead of pushing the feeling away, he embraced it. He could almost see it, a fragile blue light flickering and struggling against some unknown force. Dean focused on it and listened. 

Cas wanted to belong, wanted to stay, but he didn’t deserve this family. He was a twisted, tainted thing that wreaked havoc in the face of kindness. He wanted desperately to prove he deserved to stay. He needed to prove it or he’d never be able to live with himself. He was afraid his demons would consume him again. He was afraid he’d surrender to the darkness. He was afraid this newfound peace was fleeting.

Dean took a slow, deep breath, still letting his soulmate’s emotions flow through him. He understood. Cas didn’t need to convince his family he belonged; he needed to convince himself.

Cas was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Did you do that on purpose?” he asked.

“Feel your feelings?” asked Dean.

“Yes. Did you mean to do that, or did I do that to you?”

Dean brushed a lock of hair away from the angel’s forehead. “I did it,” he answered. He bit his lip in an attempt to conceal his pride at reading Cas so easily.

Cas huffed. “I’ll never be able to hide anything from you again, will I?”

“I hope not,” answered Dean. He ran his fingers through Cas’ hair. “I think I get what you were trying to say. You don’t want us to punish you, you want to prove to yourself you deserve us.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “In Heaven, the rules were clear. If you followed them, you deserved to stay. If you disobeyed, you were unworthy. I’ve been unworthy of many things for a very long time.”

“How about I give you some rules to follow for us,” said Dean. “Then you’ll know you deserve to stay.”

“You’ll just give me nebulous rules that technically can’t be broken.”

“I’m not going to give you fake rules, I’ll make them real.”

Cas shook his head. “I need something more concrete.”

“How about,” said Dean, “you have to do the dishes for a week.”

Cas squinted at him. “That could work. You have always said washing dishes is akin to torture.” He paused.

Dean felt something in his chest again. 

Cas frowned. “Ah,” he said. “That was sarcasm. Dishing washing is a pedantic, but necessary activity and you ultimately enjoy having the kitchen clean.”

Dean pulled away from him. “Don’t go snooping through my feelings,” he said. 

“You were ‘snooping’ through mine.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. 

“What if I give you my grace,” said Cas. “You will hold it until I am worthy of it again.” 

“No,” said Dean. “All jokes aside, you need to be able to forgive yourself. Thinking you’re unworthy and bad is what messed you up in the first place.” 

Cas closed his eyes, still frowning. 

“You deserve forgiveness,” said Dean. He leaned in and kissed Castiel’s forehead. “No one in this family is good or bad. We do good when we can and we do bad when it’s necessary. That’s what this world needs.” 

“I should be punished,” whispered Cas.

“You punish yourself every day,” said Dean. “You tell yourself you shouldn’t be happy, you don’t deserve a break, you’re not enough. A person can’t live like that.” He kissed the angel’s cheek. “You want to know what you should do to feel like you belong here?”

“Yes,” whispered Cas. “Please.” 

“Quit punishing yourself.” Dean breathed the words against Cas’ lips and kissed him again. “Listen to your family. Trust us when we say we love you. You’re looking at yourself through a warped window and you don’t see what everyone else sees.” 

Cas bit his lip as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. 

“I don’t expect you to see yourself clearly all at once,” said Dean. “You need time to heal. I understand that, but I don’t think _you_ do.” 

Cas almost pulled away from him, but Dean held him firmly in his arms. 

“You can’t see yourself clearly,” said Dean, “so close your eyes and trust me for a while. Let me see what you can’t.” He brushed the tears from Cas’ cheeks. “Trust me,” he whispered. 

Cas took a shaky breath, then nodded. “I trust you,” he murmured. 

“No punishments,” said Dean.

“I trust you,” repeated Cas.

Dean decided that was as close as he was going to get to an agreement, but he had another plan to set in motion. “Tell me something you want,” said Dean. “It can be small, but it has to be something good.”

“I’m happy just like this,” said Cas. He cracked an eye open.

“Are you comfortable?” asked Dean. 

“Yes.”

Dean sighed. He was hoping Cas would ask for something specific, even if it were a simple as a cup of tea.

Cas licked his lips. “I like it when you touch my hair,” he said quietly.

Dean quickly obliged. “Like this?” he asked. 

Cas nuzzled closer. “Yes,” he answered.

Dean kissed his forehead again. “Good,” he said. “This is good.” 

Cas tucked himself against Dean’s chest, head resting just beneath his chin. Dean held him and continued to run his fingers through soft dark hair. Cas’ breathing slowed and his shoulders relaxed. His chest vibrated against Dean’s when he spoke again. He mumbled something about wings, but Dean was entirely overwhelmed by the intimate domesticity of the moment. 

“What was that?” asked Dean. 

“My wings,” answered Cas. “I’d like to manifest them.”

“I’d like that, too,” said Dean. 

There was a familiar _whoosh_ as Castiel’s massive inky-black wings appeared. Dean moved his free hand to the base and his fingers brushed against soft feathers. Cas shivered and made a content humming sound. Dean decided he wanted to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life, and it would be his mission to find a reason for Cas to make that sound every day for the rest of his life.

“You’re good, Cas,” he whispered. “You’re so good.”

The angel didn’t answer, but he didn’t contradict Dean either. He nuzzled closer and clung a little tighter. That was progress enough. Dean would remind him he was good until one day, he believed it on his own.

* * *

An entire week went by. Cas was still struggling to tell the others what he wanted, what he liked and didn’t like, but Dean told him he was doing a great job.

Cas liked sampling whatever food Dean was eating. He didn’t like getting out of bed early. He liked not having to hide his wings, and liked it even more when Dean ran his fingers through the soft feathers. He liked long car rides, good scotch, cheeseburgers, and cherry coke. He liked listening to Dean sing, though he didn’t enjoy singing himself. He liked mundane, human things and his favorite nights were nights spent with his family, a bowl of popcorn, and a movie. He liked holding Dean’s hand. 

Dean went on a supply run one afternoon and Cas went with him. They held hands as they shopped. A few people stared and some were bold enough to openly glare. It didn’t bother Dean like he thought it would. He was just enough of a sociopath to kill anyone who threatened his happiness and not feel any remorse. 

 _“You’re not a sociopath,”_ said Cas, speaking through the bond. 

 _“I am,”_ said Dean, “ _and I’m totally ok with that.”_  

A grumpy looking man with a camo-print cap muttered when they walked past him. Dean made a show of kissing Cas on the cheek. 

Cas blushed. “ _Show off_ ,” he said. “ _If he’s bothering you I can gently shock him with my grace.”_

“ _You can’t ‘gently shock’ somebody,”_ said Dean.

_“Yes I can. I’ve done it many times.”_

_“Don’t,” said Dean._

Cas huffed. They left the aisle and continued shopping. They didn’t see the man again and Dean realized no force from Heaven, Hell or Earth could threaten them. They’d seen it all and he wasn’t afraid anymore. His family made him happy and a small forgotten part of him realized if Cas deserved to be happy, the Dean did, too.

They could still fight monsters and save the world when it needed them, but family would always take priority.

Dean smiled to himself. Step one, find what makes you happy. Step two, fight for it and protect it. Step three, enjoy it and be happy. 

Every day wasn’t going to be a good one and sometimes reprieves from chaos were going to be few and far between. It didn’t matter though, because their lives were full of peaceful moments and Dean was never going to miss another one. 

Cas squeezed his hand. He glanced around the empty aisle then pulled Dean into a kiss. His teeth grazed Dean’s lower lip as he pulled away, probably to deliberately tease. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” said Dean.

They finished shopping and loaded up the Impala. Cas sat beside him in the front seat, a hand running absentmindedly through Dean’s hair. Dean hit the gas and they headed back home.


	21. Timestamp: One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your reward for reading so much angst is torrential downpour of smut and fluff. This is probably and unnecessary addition but I think these guys deserve a vacation. Also we were all robbed of Cas and mating season...so here is

It started as an itch beneath his skin. Dean was coming back from a solo-hunt in Mississippi. Halfway through the drive his chest started tingling. The more he scratched, the more the sensation spread.

At first, he thought it was a rash. Maybe he’d wandered through some poison ivy while he was chasing the god-forsaken arachne through the god-forsaken swamp. Then he wondered if the monster bit him without him noticing. 

He stopped at a drug store for some anti-itch lotion. While he was perusing the shelves on the aisle, he realized he wasn’t itchy anymore. He was just hot. He rolled his shoulders, cursing the stupid monster under his breath, and went to inspect himself in the bathroom. 

He didn’t have any bumps or bite marks. His skin was red, but only in the places he’d scratched. He splashed cold water on his face, which did precisely nothing to help. 

He squirmed and stretched and ran his fingers through his hair. This had all the hallmarks of a curse. Maybe a witch was working with the arachne. Maybe he’d stumbled through the witch’s swamp house. If this was a curse, he was going to drive as fast as he could back to that muddy shithole and murder the fuck out of the witch that did this to him. Fuck it. He’d murder any witch he came across. 

He wiped his forehead, expecting to wipe away sweat. His skin was dry and not nearly as hot as it should be considering how fucking uncomfortable he was. He growled under his breath. His back started itching and that really pissed him off because he couldn’t reach the spot that was bothering him.

He gripped both sides of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. “I’m going to crazy in a fucking CVS bathroom,” he muttered. “Get your shit together, Winchester. It’s just a spell. You’re six hours from home. You can make it.” 

The six-hour drive could be a five-hour drive if he took the right roads. He splashed another handful of water on his face then walked briskly back to the Impala. 

As soon as he closed the car door, the smell hit him. It was so strong it made his eyes water. He recognized it at once and began searching the car for the source. “Smell” wasn’t the right word. It was a fragrance – a scent – something light and intoxicating. It was Cas. 

But Cas was very clearly not in the car. Dean cranked up the Impala and hit the gas. The itch he couldn’t scratch, the fever he couldn’t sooth, it was all coming from Castiel. It was mating season and Dean completely forgot.

His phone rang and he fumbled to answer it. He put the call on speaker and his brother’s voice filled the car.

“Hey, uh, Cas wants you to meet him near Tulsa.” 

“Is Cas there?” asked Dean.

 Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he answered. “He’s in the kitchen chugging water.”

“Is he ok?”

“Yeah, uh, he wants you to stop thinking. He says you’re compounding the issue.”

“Oh,” said Dean. “Did he tell you wh—”

“Yep,” answered Sam quickly. “Everybody knows. I’ll text you the directions. He’s going to meet you there. I’m going to pretend I don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Dean wiggled against his seat. His back was driving him crazy. He heard someone shout in the background of the call.

“Cas says to stop it,” said Sam.

“I’m just driving,” snapped Dean.

He heard shouting again. 

“He says his wings itch, then you itch, and he can feel you itching which makes him itch twice as hard, then you feel it again.” Sam paused. “He says it’s a vicious cycle. You need to disconnect from the bond.”

“Fuck,” muttered Dean. “Put Cas on the phone.” 

“He can’t talk to you,” said Sam. “He says that makes it worse.”

“How the hell am I supposed to disconnect?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Sam. “You’re on your own for this one.” 

“Fine,” said Dean. “I just passed a sign for Tulsa. I’m twenty minutes away.”

“Good.” Sam paused again. “Cas just disappeared. I assume he’s going to meet you. I’m going to hang up so I can send you the address. Uh, good luck.”

Dean snorted. “Thanks.”

As it turned out, Dean was much closer than he thought. The address took him to a private cabin just outside of the city. Dean followed a long driveway until he got to a very secluded cabin where a very flustered, shirtless angel was waiting on the porch. 

Dean was barely out of the car before Cas was on him.

The angel pinned him to the hood. He kicked Dean’s legs open and pressed his entire body against him. His wings glistened in the sun. His skin was like fire.

“I’ve rented this place for one week,” growled Cas. He kissed Dean, then began sucking marks into his neck. “There is a creek behind the house. We have fifteen acres of private property to ourselves. No one will hear or see anything. I’ve asked for total isolation.”

“Damn Cas, you know I get all hot when you talk vacation-specifics.”

Cas ignored him. He shoved a hand down Dean’s pants and grabbed his dick. Dean gasped and jerked his hips forward.

Cas started rutting against him. “I packed enough supplies for tonight, but we will need to go shopping tomorrow. I assume you’ll want to eat, though I have more than enough grace to keep us going throughout the week so shopping is not essential. However, if we don’t indulge human habits, it could become uncomfortable for both of us.”

“Ok,” stammered Dean. He had just enough awareness to dig his fingers into Cas’ wings. He was rewarded with a low moan.

Cas bit into his neck. He pulled his hand away from Dean’s cock and lifted him in his arms. He carried Dean into the house and straight to the bedroom and dropped him on the bed.

Dean was dizzy with hormones.

“You can’t control it, can you?” asked Cas. He’d already started peeling away Dean’s clothes. 

“Honestly, I haven’t even tried,” answered Dean. “I’m kind of looking forward to an endless loop orgasm.” 

Cas straddled his hips and licked into his mouth, his tongue sliding against Dean’s. He snapped his fingers and they were naked. “One of us has to stay in control,” he breathed. 

Dean planted his feet on the bed and rocked his hips against him. “Or else what?” 

Cas’ eyes fluttered. “I, um, I’m not sure.”

Dean sunk his fingers into Cas downy feathers, massaging deep into the muscles. Cas’ eyes actually rolled back and his arms shook. He wrapped his legs around the angel and flipped them, careful not to pin Cas’ wings.

He kept one hand buried in feathers and licked the palm of his other hand. He reached between them and took both erections in his fist. “Relax,” whispered Dean. “We don’t need to control the bond. We need to make the most of your crazy angelic sex-drive.”

Cas tilted his head back, baring his neck.

Dean latched onto the exposed skin. “But if you _really_ want me in control,” he said, “I’m sure I could round up some Enochian-engraved handcuffs.” 

Cas moaned again, fucking into Dean’s fist.

“I have some, you know,” Dean continued. “Been working on them for months. I’d love to take them for a test drive.”

“I’d hate to have to break something you worked so hard to create,” breathed Cas. He placed two glowing fingers to Dean’s forehead and Dean felt his limbs go numb. “I did more research.”

“Cheater,” said Dean. 

Cas pulled Dean’s hand away, freeing his cock. “I think we should use stoplight codes. Green means you want more. Yellow means I should slow down or you are approaching your limit. Red means stop.”

“Ok, ditto for you,” said Dean.

“I am a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent,” he said. “I will not need the codes.” 

Cas moved his hand and Dean’s body went with it. He found himself on all fours on the mattress and Cas quickly maneuvered behind him. Dean bit his lip and waited. He heard a bottle lid snap open. He felt Cas press a finger against his ass. He felt Cas sucking and nipping at his back. He felt Cas’ free hand dig into his hips to hold him steady. 

It had never occurred to him that slow foreplay could be the thing that finally did him in. Cas was taking his sweet time just to be a dick. Dean knew the angel was just as lust-drunk as he was. This was probably killing him too.

Cas pressed the tip of his finger into Dean. He eased the rest of the digit in slowly. He found Dean’s prostate and started a very slow massage. Dean was going to get his revenge for this. He closed his eyes and wondered why he didn’t just let Cas fuck him on the hood of the Impala earlier. He suddenly realized he was in control of his arms and legs again. Instead of fighting for leverage, he grabbed his cock and began slowly stoking himself.

Cas groaned. His hands were shaking and his grip wasn’t as strong as it was before. Cas was going to wear himself out before they ever got around to sex. 

Dean rocked back onto Cas’ finger. “Green, for the love of fuck, _green._ ” 

“Sorry,” panted Cas. “I got carried away. I can almost feel what you’re feeling.”

Dean pulled himself away from the angel. Now was not the time to be distracted by the wonder of their stupid bond. He rolled to the side and quickly pushed Cas down. The angel still seemed a little dazed. 

He found the bottle of lube and squirted some into his hands. He reached around and grabbed Cas’ dick and started pumping his fist before the angel could regain control.

He eased his index finger into Cas and teased his prostate. Cas gasped and something fiery burst through the bond. Dean bit his lip and slowly added a second finger. He didn’t have to move his fist anymore. Cas was thrusting into his hand all on his own. Dean focused on stretching him. He felt the angel’s hips stutter and quickly moved his hand away. 

“Green,” moaned Cas. 

Dean lined himself up against Castiel’s entrance. He slowly pushed inside the angel and suddenly the room seemed to glow. The world was too bright. The colors were too vibrant. His skin was too exposed. Cas was too far away. 

He exhaled and everything went back to the way it was. His hips moved with a mind of their own. Cas was moaning beneath him with one hand braced against the headboard.

Dean leaned forward and grabbed the base of Cas’ wings. He dug into the muscles and used the massive limbs for leverage to deepen his thrusts. 

Something cracked and Dean looked up to see that Cas had split the headboard in two. Dean thrust deeper, the angel’s name dripping from his lips.

Cas’ elbows were shaking. Dean released a wing and took hold of his cock again. Cas collapsed onto the bed, still writhing and bucking beneath the hunter. Dean fucked him harder and faster against the mattress. Cas cried out and Dean felt something wet and warm in his hand. Another wave of fire rolled through the bond. It filled his veins and the strength of it was more than he could stand. He came and crumpled against the angel. He wasn’t prepared when the next wave hit.

Trembling, he rolled onto his side. Cas was quick to cover them with his wing and pull Dean into his arms. Just feeling their skin touch was almost too much. He arched his back and gasped for air. Cas’ hands were shaking as he clung to Dean.

“Oh my god,” panted Dean.

“I warned you,” panted Cas. 

“That was amazing.”

“I am powerless to our bond during this time. If you want any semblance of control, then the responsibility falls to you.”

Dean kissed him, sucking Cas’ lower lip into his mouth and dragging his teeth against it. “Screw control.”

“Are you sure? That wasn’t too much for you?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “That was, hands down, the best sex any two people can have, ever.” 

“This will probably last an entire week. I don’t want to exhaust you.”

“Bring. It. On.”

* * *

Cas was stretched out on his stomach in the grass. They’d been at the cabin for days and Dean was, as the angel had predicted, completely exhausted. He had enough energy to sit beside Cas and run his fingers through his soft black feathers. That seemed to be enough for the moment. Cas had all but melted under his touch.

Dean combed through the last of the long flight feathers, then nudged the angel. “Other side,” he said.

Cas mumbled something. 

“What happened to you being out of control?” asked Dean.

“Celestial instinct is no match for your ridiculous libido,” answered Cas.

“Roll over,” said Dean. This time he nudged Castiel through the bond.

The angel groaned, but complied. 

“Careful,” said Dean. “I just groomed those feathers.”

Cas settled back down and threw one arm over his face. It was bright outside and the sun highlighted his tan skin and long, lean muscles. Cas’ lip twitched. Thanks to the bond, there was no more secret staring. Technically they could keep their ogling from each other, but Dean never bothered to try. It was too much fun watching blush creep into Cas’ cheeks once he realized he was being watched.

Dean finished combing through the underside of Cas’ wings, then stretched out beside him in the sun. “Tell me something you want,” he said, “something good.”

Cas didn’t answer. Instead he groped blindly until he found Dean’s arm, then pulled him close so the hunter was pillowed against his chest. “This,” he answered. “What do you want?”

“This,” answered Dean.

Cas sighed.

Dean felt his hesitation. He laced their fingers together and brought Cas’ knuckles to his lips. “Stay with me,” he whispered. 

“I’m with you,” said Cas.

“This is real,” said Dean. Something light fluttered in his chest. He closed his eyes and focused on catching it. He held the fragile thing close and let his strength merge with it. Beneath him, Cas took a deep breath. 

He caught a glimpse of something; an image flickered in his mind. He saw Cas alone with his wings wrapped around him, eyes closed with a deep crease in his forehead. Suddenly the sun wasn’t enough to keep him warm. His chest felt empty and hollow. The image and the sensation quickly disappeared. Dean opened his eyes and sat up.

Cas clenched his jaw. 

“Take me there,” he said. 

“Where?” 

“The place I just saw. That’s where you used to go to wait out mating season.”

Cas peered at him from beneath his arm.

“You can’t hide it,” said Dean. “I already saw it.” 

“I don’t want to go there.”

“I do.”

Castiel frowned, then sat up. “It isn’t a pleasant place. I went there to wallow and feel sorry for myself. What you saw, and presumably felt, just now wasn’t me lamenting. I was just thinking about how different things are this time.”

“Believe it or not, I know that, too.”

Cas tilted his head. His side of the bond reached for the hunter, searching for an explanation. 

Dean tried not to grin as he hid the answer behind a mountain of thoughts and emotions.

“So you _do_ know how to hide things,” said Cas. 

“I know how to find things, too,” said Dean. He bit his lip and concentrated on the fragile feeling he’d caught earlier. It was much stronger now. He let it go and helped it find its way back to Cas. He wasn’t entirely certain what the feeling was, but he suspected it might be trust. 

The angel gasped. 

“Can we go now?” asked Dean. 

“You should probably get dressed first,” said Cas. “And we’ll need to bring blankets.” 

* * *

The landing was much softer than other times Dean flew with him. He wasn’t sure who or what to thank for that, but he was on the ground now and that was really all that mattered.

He stood with Cas in the middle of an empty wooden building. It was dark and the air around them was getting colder by the second. Cas quickly wrapped him in a thick blanket then cocooned them in his wings.

“So this is your fortress of solitude?” asked Dean, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering. 

“More or less,” answered Cas.

“Where are we?” 

“An abandoned base in Antarctica.” 

Dean’s heart sank into his stomach. “ _This_ is where you go?” 

“It used to be, yes.” 

“This is miserable. Why is your hideout so miserable?” 

“I told you, I used to come here to wallow,” answered Cas. “Though I never thought of it as miserable. It’s not far from the ocean. Sometimes I’d watch the penguins or look for whales. I suppose it was cozy at some point.”

Dean shivered and pressed himself closer to Cas.

“It was also the only place I could tolerate during heats.” Cas started walking backwards and pulled Dean with him. “I had a bed. I spent most of the time sleeping.” They crossed the room and Cas helped him sit down on something that felt suspiciously like a frozen mattress covered with frozen blankets. “Have you seen enough?” he asked.

“I haven’t seen anything yet,” answered Dean.

“I can light a fire.” 

“Yes,” said Dean quickly. He huddled beneath the blanket and waited for Cas to return. 

The fireplace ignited and lit up the room and illuminated Cas’ form. His wings shimmered against the flames and Dean couldn’t help but imagine him cutting through demons in Hell. He didn’t mean to share the fantasy. 

Cas snorted. “It was hardly that glamorous,” he said, returning to Dean. He shook out the blankets and used his grace to thaw and warm the bed.

Dean pulled him onto the mattress and Castiel tucked him under his wing. “I can’t think of a lonelier place for you to hide,” he said.

“It was peaceful before it was lonely,” said Cas.

Dean wrapped his arms around him. “Would it be a massive invasion of your privacy if we spent the night here?” 

“Not at all,” answered Cas. “But I thought you said it was miserable.” 

“It’s not that bad. I was cold. Everything is miserable when I’m cold.” He wiggled closer to the angel. “I think we should make some better memories here. I don’t like the idea of you alone in the cold while you’re so vulnerable.”

“I took necessary precautions,” said Cas. “This building is thoroughly ward—What are you doing?”

Dean underestimated how warm Cas’ wings were. “I’m trying to get naked,” he answered.

“How naked?” asked Cas.

“All the way naked,” he answered. He felt a familiar tingling sensation wash over his skin as his clothes suddenly disappeared. “Thanks,” he said. He fought against the blankets until he managed to cover Cas and his wings. He burrowed into the bed and made sure they were completely tucked in and warm. 

Cas watched him, seeming both curious and amused. 

Dean hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Cas’ pants. “Off,” he said.

Cas laughed and banished his clothes along with Dean’s. “What are you doing?” 

“Angel-mate stuff,” he answered. He wiggled back to Cas’ side and hooked their legs together, then nuzzled as close as he could. He tangled his fingers in Cas’ hair and kissed him. “Are you too hot under all these blankets?” he asked. 

“No,” answered Cas. “I’m actually quite comfortable.” He chased after Dean’s lips in the darkness.

Dean slid his hand down Cas’ side and teased his fingernails against his hips. Cas hummed in contentment. They were on their sides facing each other, tangled together in a mess of arms, legs and wings. Dean slipped his hand between them and cupped his hand against the other Cas' cock. 

Cas shivered and grinned against Dean’s lips. “I thought you were tired,” he said. 

“I was,” said Dean. He felt Castiel’s erection growing in his hand. “But you’re pretty god-damn irresistible.” He wrapped his fingers around Cas’ cock and slowly pumped his fist. He felt Cas’ eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

The angel gently pushed Dean onto his back and carefully settled on top of him. Dean spread his legs to accommodate him. It was warm and dark and quiet. The occasional crackling of logs in the fireplace was the only sound in the room. 

Cas kissed his way down to Dean’s chest, taking his time as encircled Dean’s nipple with his tongue. His hands were on Dean’s hips, and his cock was pressed against his thigh. Still, Dean felt pressure at his entrance. He let his head fall back. Cas moved across his chest to his other nipple, sucking at it slowly and teasing it with his tongue. 

Dean reached between them, hand trembling, as he took his erection in his fist. Cas moved one hand from Dean’s hip and pressed the pad of his finger against Dean’s hole. He began tracing a gentle circle against the tight ring of muscle. He rocked slowly against Dean.

Finally, he slipped his finger inside. Dean moaned and brought his free hand up to bury his fingers in Cas’ wings. They took their time. He was more than ready when Cas finally eased himself inside of Dean.

Cas undulated his hips and set a pace that was slow and deep. Dean clung to him, desperately running his fingers through Cas’ feathers. Every time Cas pushed into him, Dean lifted his hips to deepen the thrust. His own cock was trapped between their stomachs. Their lips were locked in a long, hungry kiss. 

Cas pulled almost all the way out, then slowly pushed back inside. Dean shuttered as Cas moved against his prostate. They lost track of time, passing moments of bliss and pleasure back and forth through their bodies and their bond. Dean didn’t know how long he stayed trembling beneath his angel. They teetered together on the edge of an orgasm for as long as they could and worshiped one another beneath the blankets. 

Dean came with broken cry just as Cas began to thrust harder and faster. He clung to the hunter as his own orgasm overtook him. They held each other through wave after wave of aftershocks. It was a good fifteen minutes later before either of them could speak. 

Hands still shaking, Cas touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead and cleaned them both. He kissed the hunter again. He settled his wing over Dean’s body, careful not to disrupt their nest of blankets. A soft blue light began to glow beneath his feathers. The angel’s cheeks were flushed and he was grinning brightly.

“Was that part of your plan?” asked Cas. 

“What? Seducing you in your fortress of solitude?” Dean grinned back at him. “That was the plan.”

“It will be very difficult to think of this place without thinking of you,” said Cas.

“Good,” said Dean. “Mission accomplished.”

They spent a quiet night huddled together against the cold. It was easily the most romantic thing Dean had ever experienced, though it didn’t seem terribly romantic on the surface. He woke up warm and pressed against Cas. 

They took their time waking up and getting dressed. Cas took them back to the cabin that afternoon. No matter where they went or what they did, Cas didn’t let Dean get more than a wing’s length away. The angel didn’t seem to notice what he was doing, but Dean did. 

Cas was making sandwiches for them at the kitchen counter. Dean stepped toward the hall, almost out of reach. Right on cue a long flight feather brushed against him. The tip of Cas’ wing expanded, feathers reaching for him like fingers on an outstretched hand. The wing gently blocked his way and corralled him back to the angel’s side.

Dean grinned and kissed his cheek. “Feeling possessive?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Cas looked up from the peanut butter. 

Dean nodded to the wing draped over his shoulders. 

“Oh,” said Cas, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—how long have I been doing that?”

“All day,” answered Dean. 

Cas blushed and retracted his wing.

“No,” said Dean. He pawed at the feathers until Cas wrapped his wing around him again.

“It’s not annoying?”

“No,” answered Dean. “It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s a reflex. Angels can be very, um, possessive.”

Dean laughed. “No shit.” He wrapped his arms around his angel’s waist and let his fingertips slip just the waistband of his pants. “Humans can be pretty possessive too.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy what you’re implying, but I am trying to make lunch.”

“I’ve seen you multitask,” said Dean. “You’re good at it.” He slid his hand deeper into Cas’ pants and palmed his cock over his boxers.

Cas huffed but didn’t say a word. He glared down at the food in front of him.

Dean nibbled at his ear and hummed as Cas’ erection grew in his hand. Cas shivered and pressed his lips together when Dean finally dipped into his boxers and grabbed him. “Tell me something you want,” whispered Dean.

“I wanted to make lunch,” muttered Cas. "Unfortunately, you’ve made it very difficult for me to concentrate and now I want something entirely different.” 

Dean grinned. "Anything for you, Sunshine.”

They abandoned the food and lost themselves in each other. Dean made a mental note to reserve the cabin for the same time next year.


End file.
